Deep
by Strawberry Flames
Summary: A mask serves both to cause and to relieve suffering, but pain runs deep in darkness. Part 1: Bane origin, Part 2: TDKR setting, Bane/OC.
1. Prologue: Bedaya

**Warnings: **Rated M for brief clouded flashback of forced sexual acts and some language.

"Time takes it all. Whether you want it to or not, time takes it all. Time bares it away, and in the end there is only darkness. Sometimes we find others in that darkness, and sometimes we lose them there again." – Stephen King

Part I: The Origin

**Prolo****gue.**_** Bedaya  
**_

The drop was the first thing he remembered.

It was a gentle drop, so they said. They tied a rope around his waist—wound it so tightly that it burned his skin through the material of his clothes. They lowered him gently, gradually, as if giving it a chance to sink in. Not once did he draw a breath. In that moment, he wished for death. Eleven years old, and he already wanted to die.

His feet met with the ground. The air below was cool and dank, rancid with the scent of prisoners spending lifetime after lifetime in Hell. Skinny knees knocked together as he shivered, his bones rattling as he drew the first breath. It came in a whine much like that of a siren, and once he emitted the sound, he could not stop. His burning eyes watered and his aching throat protested as his vocal chords strained to produce a sound. The hacking sobs of a defiled child: a dirty, nonrenewable soul that was no longer fit to walk among the innocent.

An innocent child, defiled. Even his mother thought so.

There were two men beside him, one of which was speaking in a foreign tongue. But one word was recognizable in English; it had come up so often: "Sodomized."

Someone spit on the ground. "Shit. _Khara_."

And the words mingled with the tears and echoed through the cells. His ribs were bloated with the memories of it, poison pumping through his veins and causing his heart to ache with shame. His mind produced vivid recollections, visual stimulants that made him sick to his stomach.

It had been so bright out when it had happened. An average day on the streets, passing through vendors and bicyclists as they went. He had strayed from his mother's side as she haggled for fruit. He walked in circles through the smog of people, but mother and child were never reunited. That was when they spotted him. Wandering alone. Fool.

_Someone grabs his shoulders gruffly and he cannot escape their tense fingers. Jagged fingernails dig into his neck and the sun shines in his face and he cannot see. He is being moved, moved into secrecy, privacy—darkness. The shadows collapse before his vision suddenly, as though the sun has disappeared entirely. There are others—it is more than just the boy pushing them into the alleyway. They speak in garbled Arabic, but they use the word, "bitch." He does not know what it means, and as he moves to turn, he comes into abrupt contact with the palm of someone's hand. An iron grip around a slack jaw. Why does he not speak or cry out? They are pushing him onto the ground, scraping his face on the cobblestone where rats scurry by to sneak treasured garbage. His light skin cakes with mud—darker and darker as they push his cheek further into the rocks. His knees are throbbing and it happens so quickly—so quickly have they gotten his pants down his legs, so quickly they are laughing and breathing and one of them is inside of him, but so quickly his voice disappears as he chokes on the mud in the alley. His body protests, it isn't an easy go, but the rapist continues anyway, wetting himself with spit as his friends watch and laugh and point and strike._

What was worse? The shameful gang rape or being found half naked and torn to shreds by an officer? He had never seen such disgust on someone's face. The pain carried on. Such darkness. Prison for being attacked? But could The Pit—so-called "Hell on Earth"—match the hell that was the alley as the boys robbed him of his humanity? Could it be any more horrifying than the look on the offer's face? He knew he could not escape reality, knew what had happened had already ruined him for good. The Pit was mercy, they said. "You could've been dead," someone hissed.

He stopped crying. He could see no point anymore. He would be in hell no matter where they put him.

"_Esm?_" asked the man to the right.

There was a snort from his companion as he prepared to be lifted from The Pit. "He is called Bane."

He wished the light would go away.

* * *

Time passed in The Pit unusually. The long days somehow managed to change quickly into months. Some of the prisoners had grown used to keeping track of the time—why they did it, no one knew. It must have been important to them, keeping ties with the world above them. A world that had cast them out.

To Bane, it did not matter whether it was summer or winter, Sunday or Thursday, day or night. Location was what mattered, and the time did nothing to change their whereabouts. The people of Hell were to remain in Hell, in the bottom of the earth, left to spend miserable lives with few companions and nothing to look forward to. Well, that was how he felt. Some were busy trying to fight their way to the outside world. If he had kept better track of time, he would have been able to say for certain that people tried to escape The Pit at least once a day. He himself hadn't tried since he was a young boy, and now, he was almost a man.

It had been years. He did know that much.

Hassan was a man who brought the prisoners food. He, too, was forced to live in darkness, and as far as Bane knew, Hassan had done nothing wrong. "Are you taking your portions now, boy?" said Hassan in his gravelly voice. Bane bowed his head slightly.

"Yes, sir, thank you."

As he began to eat his food for the day, a familiar wave of voices darted into the air. It was always the same words: "Deshi basahra, basahra." Someone was going to try to climb out into the world. "Useless, wouldn't you say?" Bane offered more to himself than to anyone. Briefly, his eyes darted to the lock of his cell, carefully removed as the caretaker delivered food. Occasionally he would consider trying to make a run for it—dashing from the prison and scaling the rock wall without the rope. That way, he'd either make it to freedom or die. Either one was better than being confined. It was the feeling of hope that lingered around them each day as the chant began for someone else. Such a shame to have such hopes thwarted each time… "Has anyone ever made it out?" Bane asked expectantly.

Immediately Hassan shook his head as though Bane had gone mad. "Not ever. It's the jump, you see. Truly impossible. That is what I would say."

He closed the cell gate behind him. Each time he heard the lock turn, Bane's spirits sunk further.

It was no more than five minutes before a desperate cry carried through The Pit as the hopeful prisoner fell away and failed to escape. The sound of breaking bones crunching against the rock was startling despite Bane having long since gotten used to it.

A sniffling sound arose against the harnessed howls of the injured prisoner. Across from his cell sat a very secretive prisoner indeed—a boy with icy blue eyes had been there longer than Bane. A younger child who had grown in The Pit, but not by much. His frame was miniscule compared to Bane's developments. The younger boy was crying, as Bane had often seen him do. Pain and sorrow were no strangers in the darkness. They were well recognizable even in the inkiest nights.

It was gruesome, really, to think that Bane had not cried in years while his soul still bled from old wounds he could never escape. He gave the boy a sharp glare and they locked eyes momentarily. His stare was unwavering, his pink, blotchy eyes swimming around bright turquoise. Bane frowned and looked away.

"I hate to see them fail."

The unfamiliar voice sent a shiver down his spine. It had come from the crying boy, whom he had never once heard speak before. But there was something strange about the voice…something very out of place.

The small, young boy had the voice of a girl.

**A/N: I hope you all like Bane as much as I do. Please leave me some feedback, first non-Joker fanfiction in a looooong time, let me know how it's going so far. Thanks!**


	2. 1 Waahid

**1. Waahid**

There was a great gap between the young girl's words and Bane's response. As the sound of her voice washed through his mind, he found himself at a loss for the proper thing to say. She had made a comment that begged for confirmation, for acceptance, for _some kind _of answer. But he had not considered the topic since he himself was a child. Certainly then he had found the failure of so many people as they desperately climbed towards the light disheartening; but now he had grown so used to it that it hardly fazed him. It happened so frequently. One became accustomed to the scene of despair.

But the girl had been in the prison for quite some time now. Nowhere near as long as he had been, but she had been lowered in The Pit perhaps a year ago. Maybe more, maybe less. He supposed the specific date wasn't important. He had been there perhaps five or six years, if he could trust those that still practiced a calendar in vain.

A year seemed enough time to settle in. It had been plenty for him.

Bane swallowed the dryness in his throat and, as he leaned into the bars of his own cell, he asked, "What do they call you?"

The girl's gaze remained steady, staring at the wall opposite her. For a moment, it appeared she had said too much already—that she had betrayed a dangerous secret in speaking as much as she had already. Soon enough, however, the fear of being heard disappeared from her face and she answered. "What do they call me? Or what is my name?" She let her head turn stiffly, her glassy eyes resting on him. He felt obligated to remain silent. "I am called Amir," she said, determinedly lowering her tones. "It means prince."

Bane stared at her. "You are no prince."

"Quiet." Her voice was sharp. She did not appear comfortable with looking at him directly.

At the instruction, Bane turned away from her and began eating his rations for the day. It was nothing especially good, but nothing unusual, either. The small meals were a usual standard of rice and beans. Occasionally there was meat. Occasionally there was nothing at all.

"If you give me half of your rations…" The girl had spoken up again. "I will tell you my name at the fires tonight."

Bane frowned as he chewed slowly. "I'm not sure that's an even trade," he muttered. "Perhaps your name isn't worth me starving for the evening."

"Ah, but perhaps it is."

"But what of your rations, child? I am a growing boy. I am larger than you. Why should you get more to eat?"

He refused to look at her, although he could feel her eyes boring into his cell. The sting of her attention bit into him, and he wondered if she weren't trying to see right through to his organs. "I do not eat daily, my friend," she said, her voice growing lower still as Hassan approached the area again. Bane's brow furrowed, and the girl continued. "My crime was too great. I am fed once every two days, if I am lucky. And today I am hungry. I am a growing boy myself."

_Boy. _He almost scoffed at the word. She was trying to guilt him into feeding her. He would not allow it. "You are much younger than myself," he countered, willing to play along with her insistence that she, too, was a male.

"Not by much. I am small. But I daresay, I still deserve to eat sometimes."

Bane pressed his back into the metal, rusting bars on which he leaned. He exhaled through his nose as he ate, willing her to look away from him, to stop eyeing his meal so hungrily. Perhaps her crimes were indeed worth such strict rations. Perhaps she _didn't _deserve to eat.

_Deserve_. The word itself seemed cruel. As it was, he had come to accept that he had been thrown into a terrible prison for a so-called crime. Being assaulted in the world in such a way certainly merited imprisonment. He accepted that it was the way the world above operated. It was what they believed.

But did he _deserve _it?

With a growl against his own stupidity, he waited for Hassan to return to his own quarters before stretching his arm through the bars, bowl in hand. He reached as far as he could, until the iron caged his shoulder back from going any further. The food was directly between their cells, and the girl's stare had become positively unwavering. Her eyes swam with a mixture of emotions—a mixture Bane did not care to interpret. She took her time in reaching for the portion he was giving her. Her hand darted back slightly, as if waiting for him to retract the offer.

When her fingers curled around the edge, Bane briefly caught a glimpse of a white, swollen scar on the back of her hand. Upon closer inspection, he could see that Arabic letters had been engraved on her skin. He could not speak the language fluently, but he could read it all right. There was a word carved into her knuckles:

_Whore_.

She pulled the food into her cell and did not hesitate. She ate quickly and untidily. It was as though she forgot how it tasted over days when she did not consume anything at all. "You are kind," she said through a mouthful of rice.

He said nothing.

Bane waited through the rest of the afternoon and into the evening while dozing fitfully. Another prisoner attempted the climb. The chants were loud and fast, begging to man to rise, _rise_, _rise, _for God's sake. They all stood behind him, supporting one another, encouraging each other into success. But they were so deep under the world. So far down. Wasted hope.

When dusk fell entirely, the coldness of the place was washed in the flickering warmth of the fires. Bane was allowed to leave his cell to join the others in the center of The Pit. Some of the prisoners were not confined to a cell during the day; it was the younger, able-bodied ones whom were deemed dangerous enough to keep behind bars for much of their lives. Bane was not a small person, but he was certainly not dangerous as far as he was concerned. Despite witnessing several physical disputes and being the victim of an unmentionable attack, he had never had the desire to seek violence. He was no longer innocent the way a child was, but he would not lose what he had left to maliciousness.

The girl whom he had fed earlier was not allowed to leave her cell. Hassan passed by and gave her a bowl of water, but other than that, she went unacknowledged.

"Will you ever make the climb, boy?" A man addressed Bane in a husky voice. His scraggly, gray facial hair cloaked his mouth entirely.

Bane shrugged. "When I am stronger, maybe."

"Bah," spat a man to his left. "It's been years, good friend, yet you have not tried since you were a young child. You have had much time to gain strength. Some say you have no interest in escaping. Many of us have worked day in and day out to grow strong enough to succeed, but you do not work towards it. It is as though you believe strength will come to you on its own without being called."

Several of the men laughed, the fire eerily illuminating their faces in parts. "Perhaps it is not about strength," Bane replied, "but patience instead. Stamina. Determination. Strength is what carries you, but your spirit is what motivates you. Spirit is the key. And each failed climb slowly causes your spirit to deteriorate. I will not allow that. I will make the climb when I know that I will succeed." There was a rustling among the other men as they rolled their eyes and shifted at his words. "Perhaps that time will never come," Bane admitted, "but I will wait. You might be the strongest man in the world, but without determination, such a man would never attempt to climb. The desire must be there."

"And you, boy," the man hissed, "have no desire, do you?"

Bane got to his feet, clutching a thick tree branch in his palm. "I don't know," he said. "I don't know that there is anything up in the world of freedom that would entice me. Living as a free man would not change the fact that I am a slave to my crimes, would it?"

He broke away from the gathering and headed in the direction of his cell, where a smaller fire burned in the walkway. He allowed it to hold his attention for a while, stoking the wood and leaves beneath the feeble flames as he stood. He was highly aware that the girl who went by Amir was watching him intently. But he did not rush the impending conversation. What was a name to him?

"So you have come to collect what you are owed," she said through the shadows. Bane did not look over at her despite her words. He allowed the tending of the fire to occupy him. He shifted the materials specifically, making sure that the fire burned brighter and longer.

"What makes your name so great a prize?" he inquired casually. "I will call you Amir if you so choose. Your name is of no consequence."

"I never offered you a prize." Her voice acquired a wash of severity. "It is not the name, but what the name _means _about myself. The name never mattered." She drew a long breath through cracked, pale lips. "You already know my secret. I want to make sure that you aren't going to tell."

"You don't want them to know you're a female," Bane assumed in no more than a whisper out of respect for her wishes. "Is that right?" After a moment, she nodded slowly. "But someone else must have heard you speak before. To think your gender is a secret…"

"I assure you, no one else knows what you seem to be sure of," she said. "Speculation has risen, I'm sure." Her eyes were piercing in every possible way, the reflection of dancing fire wading in her crystal irises. Her gaze was intense, as though she had never known fear, but he was willing to bet that she had. Fear went along with imprisonment in The Pit. It wafted through each cell in turn with each new addition to the quarters. But the girl concealed it well as she stared at him, ablaze with determination. "You seem to know for certain," she said. "You know the truth, whereas no one else is daring enough to entertain the notion of my being anything other than a male. 'Such a severe punishment would never be fit for a woman', they think. But that is not so. They do not understand that no one is immune from hell."

Bane allowed the words to settle on the air around them, allowed them to be devoured by the spitting fire and the distant voices of those in easy conversation. Even still—even though she knew he was certain of her secret—she purposely altered her voice, making it as deep as she could manage. A strange voice to hear when he now saw her exactly the way she was. "You are wise for one so young," he said to her. "Do you remember your age?"

"Yes. Fourteen."

"You are small for fourteen."

She lowered her gaze. "Yes, this has been established."

Bane allowed her the silence after that. He, too, felt the need to rest, although the conversation had not been particularly heavy or long. He was left to the confines of his mind, to rework each word she'd said to him. Something deep within him—something buried low in his core—was fascinated by her. He felt a flicker of interest that had long since abandoned him. The girl ignited within him a feeling of hope, and immediately, his body battled to squash it away. There was no place for hope in The Pit, no matter what the others felt. They could dream and wish and believe in the taste of freedom, but it was nothing but disappointment, and Bane wanted no part of it. He had given up years ago, after the first climb. The physical and mental pain had been enough the first time. He had no intentions of rekindling them. For a moment, he thought to resent the girl for remembering her age, for holding on to her life, and for finding some motivation to survive. She radiated strength and belief in a life outside of all this, but he would not allow her to affect him. He had gone a very long time without knowing the first thing about her; it would be easy to go back to being strangers. It always was.

"Do you promise to keep it a secret?" She broke the silence the way an axe sliced through ice.

After a moment's hesitation, he agreed. "I promise."

"My name is Ari." She was charging her way through his barrier against her the more she said. "It may be of no importance to you, and I certainly should see where it wouldn't matter in the least to you. But it means a great deal to me. It is my last tie to the outside world. I alone knew myself when I have been forgotten to the rest of this earth. Sharing such a thing with you is the greatest connection I have made with anyone for almost a year, and to me, it is the greatest act of trust I have executed in so long." Bane shifted the leaves in the fire as their tips curled into glowing burned crisps. "We are in solidarity now—now that I am trusting you this way. For you have liberated me from a great secret, brother, and if you fulfill your promise, I will be forever grateful for your gifts of secrecy and liberation."

She reached her hand through the bars, the scraping of _whore_ standing out even in the darkness around them. "What is your name?" she asked him.

They shook hands. "Bane."

"Thank you, Bane."

A/N: Surprise, the girl wasn't Talia : ) She'll be coming up a bit later in Part I. Thank you all for your feedback, follows, and favorites, you all encouraged me to continue on. Especially to those of you leaving encouraging reviews: **soundnebula, Zazzy The Kitty, ktfoo, ilovehappyendings, Bane's Muse, Straight Edge Queen, baneorama, and the guest. **I think I've gotten back to all of you at this point, but I'm glad I was able to capture your attention and thank you so much for your interest and inspiring me to embark on the journey.


	3. 2 Ithnin

**2. Ithnin**

Several days after becoming aware of Ari's secret, Bane found himself spending much of his time thinking about her reason for imprisonment. She hadn't told him, of course, and he didn't expect her to. That sort of thing was not shared among prisoners for the most part. There were certain ones who were proud of their crimes—saw them as valuable stories and nothing more. But Bane had certainly never shared the occurrence that had landed him down in The Pit. Some things were too private to bond over. But he had an inkling that perhaps Ari's crime had not been so different from his own. He could not erase the image of the word "whore" scrawled into her hand. He did not want to invade her personal life by looking too far into it; he felt that even in speculating, he was intruding. Perhaps the wound on her hand was a great secret as well.

Ari's claim about her meals had been quite true: every other day, she received the same portions as everyone else. The days she did not receive food were particularly potent in Bane's mind. She did not ask for some of his food as she had done before. More often than not, she was sleeping while the other prisoners were fed. The guilt Bane felt on those days when she went hungry was escalating; he began to worry that soon enough, he would not feel right eating at all.

It wasn't for another few days that Bane could not finish his rations. Instead, he slid the remainder across the stone floor.

Ari, who had had her head shaved again by the caretaker, simply stared at the offer. Curled up against the bars of her cell, she gave Bane the sort of look that suggested he had lost his mind entirely. And perhaps he had, but there was nothing he could do about it. He had survived a day with half his rations before, and he could certainly do it again.

"…You should have it," she muttered to him. "I'm all right."

Bane shrugged. "So am I."

She remained reluctant, and continued to be that way each time he gave her the rest of his food. But her insistence for secrecy and utter solitude instilled within him the urge to look out for her. She was small and alone, cursed to live the entirety of her young life in a cage. Bane had grown up in darkness, had come to understand unfairness and accept that the prisoners in The Pit lived doomed lives. But Ari was a rare thing. She was the first person he had seen who was entirely worse off than he was. She could not leave her confinements at night the way that he could. She was deliberately neglected food-wise. And then there was the physical punishment—someone had gone to the next level in marking her skin with a punishment that she could not escape.

He could not recall having ever seen her attempt the climb. He did not wish to have her hopes trodden on in such a way, because he knew that like all of the others, she would fail, but some part of him was saddened to know that she must have had no hope. The two of them had not tried to leave hell. Yet she lived on every day, hopeless, waiting for nothing to happen. But she knew one day from the next. She kept track of time. What was her motivation?

"Why are you doing this?" Ari asked him when he could no longer remember how many full rations he had forgone. "I have nothing to give you in return. Nothing to offer."

Here, Bane expelled a dry chuckle. "You're afraid of me."

"Certainly not," she countered defensively. "I'm only saying—"

"Then why the concern?" Bane rubbed his cracked knuckles together, watching dead skin flake away from his hands from the friction.

Ari's face went sour. A harsh line appeared between her eyebrows as she drew them together. "Because you are a man," she said darkly, "and I find that men are often expectant."

Bane snapped his head in her direction. "And what does that mean?"

"No need to be defensive," Ari scoffed. "Blind trust is a death wish."

He read further into her words than he knew he was meant to. Because of it, he could feel his heart racing in his neck, his blood pumping with angry heat. His brain was traveling back to familiar terror, equally equating her fear that he would force himself on her with the terror he had felt years ago. He wanted to take back all the food he had given her, wanted to set her free just to knock her into the ground with his fist. What did she know?

He could see her logic; she was right, in a sense. But to accuse someone of ulterior motives for no good reason…

"You think I want to have sex with you," he said scathingly, "is that right?"

Immediately Ari made frantic hand motions and told him to keep his voice down. "I think you are a man," she clarified, "and that perhaps, because you are a man, you expect something in return for your kindness. That is all I've said."

"That is not what you meant." He got to his feet and began pacing, unleashing pent up energy. He had the strong urge to run at top speed for as long as his lungs would hold up. That, or he had to punch something. "You think that I would force myself on you because I think I deserve some repayment. You think this is a viable possibility, without considering that perhaps I value innocence, and that perhaps not all men are the same just because you are afraid of them." The words were rolling off his tongue easily. He was not used to speaking before thinking things through. He was a precise person; he took his time to be sure he was saying the right thing at the right time. But under the force of a heavy insult such as the one she had dealt to him, he had no reason to be mindful of what he said to her. "I do not know what happened to you, child, and I do not intend to ask. But whatever it was, I will ask you to keep your reservations to yourself. Leave me out of your fear."

He could hear her saying his name—once, she even murmured a half-hearted apology. But his mind had gone foggy. He was lost in a haze of remembrance, of a recollection so fresh, he wondered if he were ever going to be able to forget. He, even as a young man now, could not think of sex without cringing. He could not imagine finding enjoyment in something that made another so vulnerable. He felt such a sense of shame within the pit of his stomach that he could not bring himself to feel any interest towards something so primal. And although Ari could not have known this, she had resurfaced memories buried so deep, he was sure she had _tried _to bring them to the surface.

Innocence was something he could never have back. The fact that someone thought he would hurt them the way he had been hurt was sickening.

It wasn't until later in the evening that Bane's rage cooled off. When Hassan unlocked the gate, Bane glanced carefully into Ari's cell to find her slumped in the corner, awash with fatigue. They made very brief eye contact as he walked through the hallway and into the open arena. The fires were to begin in a few minutes; Hassan came up on his right, pushing a bowl of water into Bane's hands.

The prisoners ahead were milling about in the arena, clouded in thick smoke, their voices drowned out by the sound of the flames licking the air. Bane could hear a fully formed conversation already in bloom: a man by the name of Malik was contemplating attempting the climb that night. Bane slowed to a stop and waited for them to decide; he never participated in the chants and the encouragement. It was a nice gesture, sure. But it never worked, so why waste the effort?

He backtracked as the men started to shout and scramble together like animals. Their excitement was always the same: sudden and unbridled. It was a matter of moments before they were tying a rope around Malik's middle, securing him and beginning the chant.

Bane started back to his cell neutrally. His absence would not be questioned, he knew. The other prisoners found it strange that he did not share an interest in escaping, but they had come to accept that, he supposed. He would not be missed.

"So easy," came a voice through the darkness as he walked past the fire near his cell. "So simple."

The water in Ari's eyes caught the light oddly. There were deep shadows in her face, as though she had gone days without sleeping. Her vocal chords produced the familiar falsifications of a young boy's voice. Tonight, the untrue depth of sound was accompanied by a thin layer of rasp. She sounded somewhat gravelly, as though she were possibly sick. It would not have been a surprise.

"It is a way out," she said calmly, her eyes following Malik as he began the journey, scaling the rock wall to potential freedom. "A look into the eyes of the real world, of a past that once was—of regained freedom. A new life. And it is all at our disposal. We see this world so close to us—we find it attainable. It should be _easy_, should it not? When desperation and great desire coincide, one would think it should be enough to set us free. But no physical strength can carry us out, and no emotion can inspire us greatly enough to bring us up successfully." The chants were growing louder in the background; Ari looked away. "So easily the fire rises. The smoke climbs to open air above us in wisps. Nature so easily defeats us. We remain here, stationary; eternally."

Bane had nothing to say in response. He had the feeling he was not meant to answer anyway. She expelled her private musings aloud. He knew she felt personally downtrodden when others failed; he had seen her cry over their falls.

There was a guttural yell and Bane saw, out of the corner of his eye, Malik failing to reach the other side of the jump. A silence spread across The Pit, aside from Malik's cries and then—

A dangerous cracking sound, the sound of breaking bones. But when Bane looked up from Ari's cell, he saw that Malik's body had gone limp and he swung lifelessly from the rope. "Get him the doctor!" someone shouted. But death had an ability to make itself heard without a word. Malik was certainly dead. A wound on the top of his head was bleeding profusely, dark red trickling down his nose as his eyes stared unseeingly at the ground below him.

Ari was clutching her chest, her tired face seized with disturbance. "I will never climb," she wheezed, "for fear of survival. A broken spirit is much worse than a broken body." She paused while Bane's heart missed several beats as one of the men in the arena let out a sorrowful wail. "…You are right to value innocence, but you waste your concern on me."

Without saying any more than that, she made herself perfectly clear. "We share the same fear," was all he could say in response.

She seemed to understand. "Then you will not be my enemy."

"No."

The men were collecting Malik's body, untying him from the rope. Someone else had fallen to the ground, overcome with emotion. Ari's eyes were fixated on the scenario. Their paleness reflected every detail with eerie duplication, but in that moment, Bane felt a breech in the usual loneliness. Despite sitting with fellow prisoners for nights on end, listening to their banter and wisdom and war stories, he had never quite felt the sense of togetherness that he did then. He found it sad—the way that people bonded over death. That death could make one feel at home and intertwined with one another. Suffering drew slender ties between them all; the pain of loss conjured a desire for companionship. Bane had never known Malik well. He had never known _anyone _well. And Ari remained quietly in her cell beside him, through unbreakable bars and locks. She was the least reachable of the prisoners that he knew of, and yet she was the nearest.

"Then you and I must be friends." Ari's mouth turned up at the corners; her face was staining with tears, but the wrinkles by her eyes were genuine. She was an awful sight to see, thin and tired and frail and weak. Abused, he assumed, and so moved by life that she took each prisoners' failing upon herself. Through the weight of all the things she must have felt, she remembered how to smile the same way that she remembered each day.

Bane had not smiled in years. Not since he was a child—not since being sentenced to The Pit. He almost wanted to return her expression, but he knew it was senseless to even try. There was no happiness in him. It would have been a lie to smile. "If you'd like," he said, giving her the courtesy of attentiveness, "we can be."

Ari looked down at the ground. "Certainly," she answered.

So he allowed it to happen.

* * *

Three months passed according to Ari's calendar, and every day, Bane had spent his nights situated casually outside of her cell, conversing with her lightly. He had no real skill for proper interactions, and he was often silent in the midst of her words and subjects. Even still, he listened to her without any qualms. Perhaps he was still not happy, but he liked sitting with her better than he liked sitting in the arena with grown men bent on strength and hopeless dreams. He became content with the routine. He accepted the fact that his life, monotonous as it was, had a new molding, and that he was fine with it.

But a day came to pass when something very out of the ordinary took place. Bane noticed a cluster of people gathering. At first, he thought it was just another attempt at escape—there hadn't been one in quite some time after Malik's death—but the aura was much different. No one began to chant, and no one was being strapped into a rope. The prisoners at the bottom were distant and curious.

One of the men stepped forward, his expression plagued with a mixture of surprise and wariness. He outstretched his arms, shaking back the sleeves of his garments. His face caught the glow of the sun, and shadows began to fleck across the ground beneath him.

Someone was being lowered into The Pit.

It was not as though Bane hadn't seen it happen before. He had been there for years, and he had seen plenty of prisoners be dropped down into hell. He supposed he had even witnessed Ari's drop, but of course then, it hadn't been of any significance to him.

As the figure came into view, Bane tried to keep from looking in Ari's direction. He clenched his jaw and wondered how long it would be for her to notice—if she hadn't already noticed the very obvious quality that the new prisoner bore.

In another moment, he was sure Ari could not have missed it. The prisoner had made it to the bottom, feet meeting with the ground steadily and proudly. In all the time it took to undo the rope, the newcomer was clutching something around their stomach tenderly. Cloaked in robes of elegant quality and wearing a scarf that masked all but the eyes, the new prisoner was undoubtedly a woman.

Bane finally chanced a glance at Ari, but she was not looking at him. Her eyes were fixated in horror on the woman who now joined them all. Her mouth was agape, as if asking in silence for it to be some mistake. Bane harbored the same sort of feeling, though he was sure the occurrence meant a great deal more to Ari, who clearly found issue with being a woman in such a scenario. She had kept her entire identity a secret, and here was this new woman, so obviously dressed in female clothes and perhaps even…

"Bane." Ari's voice glided in a whisper across to his cell. "She is with child."

The woman was quietly directed past Bane and Ari to Malik's old cell. She nodded her head to them both in turn, at which point, Ari asked her for her name. "Melisande, my child," the woman replied. She walked on without missing a step and sat very gingerly upon being assigned living quarters. Immediately, she was presented with a portion of food that seemed larger than Bane's usual servings, and for the rest of the day, The Pit was filled with silence.

A/N: Last chapter brought in a few new reviewers, hooray! Thanks for your feedback guys, and to those of you who are continuing to read, thank you for your interest! This chapter was a bit longer, hopefully not boring. Things will start to pick up from here so long as there are still people interested. Let me know what you all think.


	4. 3 Thalatha

**3. Thalatha**

Ari watched Melisande almost constantly.

Melisande, who never left her cell, and couldn't have even if she had wanted to, was under many watchful eyes, in fact. And perhaps that was what Ari seemed to find disturbance in. At first, she had been incredibly flustered over Melisande's arrival. At the fires, when Bane sat outside of her cell, Ari spoke in tangles of words that had no connections: "Oh…in here by…with a…in such a place…oh…Bane, shouldn't she…I mean, the doctor isn't…" And she went on and on, occasionally touching his arm when Melisande shifted in her sleep. "She looks so very…_uncomfortable_," Ari managed to say, her fingers clutching Bane's sleeve.

"I can go and get the doctor for her," he offered once. "If it would make you feel better."

Ari seemed offended by this. She gave him a light smack on the shoulder and whispered, "Not _me_. Not for me, do it for her. It would make _her _feel better."

Bane, who was not entirely perplexed by her concern, frowned. "How do you know she is uncomfortable at all?" he asked her. "Maybe she'd rather be left alone."

"But maybe not."

"Then why don't you _ask _her?

At this point, Ari scoffed and folded her arms across her chest. Bane followed the action with his eyes and noticed briefly that her breasts must have been rather large; she had quite a time getting herself to lie flat. The mere idea of it gave him the queer feeling of having ice water dumped over his head. "I cannot ask her," she said, her voice intruding on his distant considerations. "I will not yell across the hallway to her, and if you will not ask her, then so be it."

"I said I would—"

"See the way they look at her." The mellow interruption caught him somewhat off guard. "Them, I mean." She gestured to the men in the arena at the communal fires. Often their attention drifted over in Bane and Ari's direction, but the prisoners looked past the two of them, craning their necks to catch a glimpse of the fully grown, elegant woman who was entirely out of place in The Pit. "She's beautiful," said Ari softly. "She's uncovered her face now. Look at her eyes: deep brown, like chocolate."

Bane did not look at Melisande. "Nothing special…" he murmured in response. "Everyone has brown eyes."

Ari eyebrows rose. "I don't."

"I know. Yours are nice."

"Oh, hush," she said, giving him a light-hearted shove. But her face had lit up with a pleased grin, her eyes squinting as her cheeks accommodated the action. Her head needed shaving again; her black hair was growing rapidly, grazing the tips of her ears and threatening to snake onto her long, thin neck. She had gained some healthy weight since he had begun sharing his food with her. Her laugh was a short breath and no other sound was so recognizable to him. He could detect every hint of emotion in her eyes and hear every thought hidden under all the words she said to him. Bane knew her the best of anyone; she was his only real companion.

But her chest was seriously beginning to bother him.

He sat awake in his cell that night, listening to the heavy breaths of those around him. He could not pick out Ari's in the mix. Above the sounds of resting, flowing water could be heard. The bath at the bottom of the arena was being filled overnight for the infrequent and glorious communal bath that was to take place the next evening. Bane was so used to washing himself off with a soaked cloth that he could hardly remember the feeling of being completely immersed in water. Given, by the time he got to it, it would already be dirty, but he didn't mind too much. It was a deeper clean than usual, and he was willing to take whatever he could get.

The first prisoners to bathe would be those who were not confined by a cell on a regular basis. Then would come the long-term prisoners. The newest would go last—aside from Ari and Melisande. He assumed that they would bathe alone after everyone else. Melisande certainly would. It was well known that she was a woman, and if the caretakers had any sense, she wouldn't be expected to bathe with the men.

Ari, however, was a different story. Her gender was not nearly as widely known as Melisande's. Bane felt his stomach twist around itself. For the first time, he found himself hoping that he was not the only one who knew that Ari, too, was a female. Even if it were only Hassan who knew, it would enough. Certainly there had been bathing days since Ari's arrival, and clearly, there hadn't been too serious of a problem. Bane tried to rest his mind with the thought that she had gotten through the day before, and that however she had done it, she would be perfectly capable of doing it again.

Bane awoke the next morning to unusually loud chatter. He imagined that many people were quite excited to have a chance at feeling truly clean. He rolled over, facing the direction of the light that filtered in from the upper world. Closing his eyes again, he felt the muggy air of the humid day pressing against his skin. The usual glaze of sweat sprung up on his forehead and he felt weak under the heat as his chest rose and fell faster. There were days that he felt even smaller than humanly possible. Days that made him feel nonexistent.

He rolled over onto his side, squinting as his eyes recovered from the recent sunlight exposure. Ari appeared to be sleeping. Her lower lip was sticking out and her face was uneasy. He looked at her, and he felt very present. Knowing that he occupied her mind at times, that he was a source of company, that she considered him her friend—it gave him a particularly potent sense of identity.

It wasn't until later in the day that Bane had a chance to take a bath. Evening had fallen, and the younger prisoners were let out of their cells. Bane was not used to hearing so many voices all at once; they penetrated his eardrums and cluttered his mind. He screwed up his face against the overload of sounds.

But when he turned and saw a man leaning against an unopened cell, Bane was able to decipher something out of place.

Instinctively, he turned to look at Ari, as if waiting for her to confirm that he was not the only one who felt the off balance. He found her looking in the same direction with a dark, unwavering glare. It was a man who spoke frequently and at length at the fires almost every night. They called him "Ish," and Bane had never heard any different. Ish had pressed his torso up against the cell, had wound his arms through the bars and pushed his face as close in as he could manage. His mouth was moving fast, lips forming word after word like a snake unleashing venom.

Ari shifted to Bane's left; she pulled the hood of her robes over her head and shrunk further into herself, keeping her eyes on Ish at all times. It was another minute before things clicked fully in Bane's mind—before he realized that Ish was speaking to Melisande.

Bane was walking in that direction before his mind had registered that he was going to move at all. In fact, his mind hadn't decided on much of anything even as Ish turned to see Bane gaining on him. What was he going to say to Ish? Was he supposed to say something? It certainly felt like it. And he knew Ari was writing novels in her head to the man at Melisande's cell, but she couldn't say anything. Bane had to do it for her. It would have been wrong to say nothing when he knew how many words she had to say—when he could say them for her.

When Bane was close enough, he could hear what Ish was saying. All other sound disappeared despite the clamoring of people all around them. And for a few seconds, Bane could only hear Ish growling through the bars, telling Melisande what he wanted to do to her and how he wanted to see her look and how she made him feel. He spoke with confidence and the air that perhaps he thought he was paying the woman a compliment. That, above anything else—above rationale and sense and reasoning—was what drove Bane to enter into the conversation.

"Don't talk to her."

Bane felt the words slide up his throat like acid, surprising him even though he knew he had to say _something_. Every syllable caught him off guard, and he wanted to turn and have Ari's approval, but he did not want to back down.

Ish's eyes traveled up from Melisande's form. For several seconds, his gaze rested on the ceiling of her cell as his eyebrows drew low and close to his lids. It wasn't until Ish looked over to him that Bane realized he had been holding his breath. "What did you say to me, boy?" Ish breathed, spewing hot air into Bane's face. Ish kept his fingers curled around the bars of Melisande's cell; Bane could see the veins sprouting up as the man's grip tightened.

He almost wanted to be afraid. He knew he had felt fear in his life, and if he reached far back enough, he felt he could conjure it up again. But the choice became abundantly clear when Ish repeated his question: "_What did you say_?"

Ish was a bigger man than Bane. He was much older and better fed and active. In fact, Bane had watched Ish attempt the climb several times over the years. Yet Bane countered him, small as he was, and stared into the face of a man who could have broken him without lifting more than a finger. He searched for fear. Thought that perhaps, he could delight in the reality of true terror. But it just wouldn't happen. Instead, he felt his insides welling with pure rage, and he could have answered Ish, could have said, "You should leave the woman alone," but he didn't say anything.

Ish's face broke into a smile. "Not surprising," he offered in a voice that was far too audible. "Back away from what you started, child. It was a waste of your time—an unnecessary danger to bother me, when you and I both know you're nothing but a bitch."

The word was startling. Bane hadn't even _heard _the word since he was a child, much less been called it. The name evoked some horrible shame and embarrassment, and he was focused on how loud Ish had spoken and how Ari must have heard it. There was no way it had gone unnoticed, and Bane was standing there without retaliating, a bitch in the eyes of prisoners who felt no guilt over it. "…What makes you say that?" Bane finally asked after too long a hesitation.

Ish wore a curious expression. "Playing the fool, are you?" he taunted, and the very tone of his voice gave Bane the desire to push him over the edge of a cliff. "Senseless. It is widely known, and it's your own doing. The people have seen you, Bane. You spend your every free moment right there, in front of that boy's cell, talking to him, listening. Maybe more. You hardly look at the ripe woman who was brought down here, and instead, you ogle at Amir, a prepubescent boy. And you know…" He took a step closer to Bane, who could feel himself shutting down as he realized the accusation that was being put forth. "…If he were ever let out of his cell, you'd never take your hands off him, would you—" Ish snarled and spit on the shoulder of Bane's robes "—bitch?"

The reaction was almost immediate. It was as though Bane was not in control of his own body. In a split second, he had swung his arm up from his side and thrown a tightly balled fist straight into Ish's nose. Immediately, an enormous pain seared through Bane's knuckles—a pain that was surprisingly blinding. He was desperate to catch a glimpse of Ish, but there was nothing to be seen.

Several people nearby were having mixed reactions. Some had fallen into dead silence, while others unleashed emotional shouts.

When Bane's head stopped spinning, he slowly unfurled his palm before him. Rounding his shoulders in defense, he shut out all other thoughts and feelings but the numb, tingling of the skin of his hand. Seconds prior, he had smashed some small part of his body into someone else, and when Bane looked up, he saw that Ish was still staggering. He clutched his face and groaned. He was doubled over his knees, and Bane was utterly astounded at the damage something so small had done. In his core, he started to feel guilty for hitting a man. But a more dominant part of him almost smiled at the thought that someone so large was reeling over a blow that Bane had dealt with his bare hands. Bane, who had never trained or eaten well or even _practiced _fighting, had knocked a man twice his size back.

The corner of his mouth twitched. Foreign happiness filled his ribcage and he smiled for the first time in ages.

But the half-hearted joy did not last long. Soon enough, Ish was balancing himself, and there was fire in his eyes that Bane had never seen in anyone before. Ish had no need to say anything before moving again. He advanced with incredible speed and before Bane knew it, he was on the floor as Ish's knuckles sunk into every inch of his body. He tried to separate his mind from the physical attacks, but instead of calming him, his brain brought forth the only familiar and relatable experience he had. And after that, it was the best he could do to shut down entirely while bystanders watched.

It was exactly as it had been. He remained as weak as he had been, and he had never truly hated himself the way he did in that moment.

At some point, he lost consciousness, but not before a sharp blow to the eye. He felt the flesh above his eyelid slice, and when liquid began trailing down the side of his face, his already obscured vision dissipated entirely. The brutality of Ish's attacks faded away, as did Bane's ability to think at all. It was a blessing if anything ever was: being able to slide away into nothingness and forget everything.

* * *

Bane could not tell whether he was dreaming or not. His head was filled with wisps of thoughts, such as the fact that he had probably missed his opportunity for a bath entirely. They were vacant thoughts, ideas that had next to nothing to do with anything of true consequence. He did not dream of the fight, did not wonder about whoever had stepped in to keep him from dying, did not repeat the word "bitch" in his mind. No part of him harkened back to parallel times when he had been attacked. His brain refused to draw ties between Ish accusing him of being homosexual and the gang rape that had occurred so many years ago.

When Bane's idle existence fully awakened, he was swarmed with such pain that his breath caught in his throat. The entirety of his torso was screaming with intensity as he stared at the ceiling; he was afraid to look down at himself. He wanted to be sure the wounds themselves were not so terrible that he couldn't recover from them. It was the soreness in his muscles that burned the most. He knew there would be bruises—he found that he had a dry cough—but aside from a sting over his eyebrow, there were no signs of any open wounds.

The range of emotions he had felt during the brief confrontation with Ish had been otherworldly. Bane could not remember the last time he had felt anything so deeply. He doubted he had ever fallen under the influence of so many opposing feelings all at once. To go from near happiness between terror and shame almost seemed impossible.

It must have been very late at night. The prison was overrun with the night, and there was no glow to signify that it was time for the fires. Bane was certain he wouldn't have left his cell even if he'd been given the choice. After fighting with Ish, he debated about ever going outside again.

There was very minute background noise: the sound of a gate creaking open and whispered instructions. The voices were nearby. Bane could identify one voice as that of Hassan, but the other person spoke so quietly that there were no qualities to their tone at all. He did, however, have the feeling that someone was moving closer to his cell.

"Bane."

He did not try to move. He was even wary about transferring his gaze to Ari, who had been let out of her cell to go and have a bath. It was the first time he had ever seen her have free access to the rest of The Pit—not that it made much a difference whether locked away or roaming around. It was all the same. She was crouched in front of his cell lowly, her fingers covering her mouth lightly. She looked very emotional, and by the look on her face, Bane could safely assume that he had never been in worse condition.

He said nothing to her, and as the silence drew on and her eyes scanned over his motionless form, Ari shook her head. "This is my fault," she said gloomily. "All this confusion and…violence over…" She wasn't going to say it aloud, but Bane knew what she was referring to. Ari's false identity as a boy had earned Bane a reputation, but he didn't blame her. It was _not _her fault. He wanted to tell her that—he meant to—but he kept his mouth shut.

Ari went on. "…If they knew that I was…who I was, no one would think badly of you." It was evident that she was honestly considering coming clean about her gender to the others, but her comfort was not worth his. The most he could do was shake his head at the words.

She had been right. Melisande's presence had proven that. Men harassed her in all sorts of ways, and even though she was safe from their touch for the time being, she was constantly in danger of their hungry glares and suggestions. Bane had seen it happen firsthand, and his efforts to stop it had gone completely awry. The best protection a woman could have in The Pit was anonymity, and he would not let Ari give them up to spare him incorrect assumptions.

Ari made a sudden motion against the bars, as though she had forgotten they were there and meant to join him in his cell. He gave her his attention as she leaned in closer to him. "That should not have happened to you," she said, her voice firm. "You were willing to put yourself in a risk as great as that to protect her. You should have been rewarded for standing up to that pig." Her arm stretched through the bars and she reached for him. Unable to move, he could only watch as her fingers grazed his forehead, skimming across his short hairline. "Say the word, and I will fix it," she said. "If you ask me, I will tell them all the truth and you will have your good name back and more."

The notion was absurd to him. "No," he answered thinly. And that was all he said to her. Instead, he focused on the feeling of her callused fingertips on his face. The cold, light touch took away from his aching muscles. For a moment, it even made it easier to breathe.

"You are brave, my friend," she whispered to him. "So, so brave."

Hassan pulled her away from Bane eventually, and she was led towards the center of The Pit where the now dirty water awaited her. Bane assumed that she had been made to wait until late into the night so in the hopes that most other prisoners would be sleeping and would not notice her going on her own. He briefly thought of Melisande and wondered if they were going to bathe together. Then the thoughts strayed further as he heard the gentle splash of the water and he presumed she had waded in from the stairs. He tried not to think about it too much, but even through the pain, his mind wanted to wonder about her. She was probably naked in the bath, all on her own. He refused to consider that matter any further, and attributed his musings about her to mere curiosity. He could not think of Ari sexually. Especially not when it would make him just like the other men who chased after Melisande and who would have chased after Ari if they had known she was female. He wanted to be different than that. Better.

"I have been told you are called Bane."

A new voice arose from the night. It was the slow, sultry voice of a grown woman, and without a doubt, it was Melisande. She must have just finished bathing. Hers was the only female voice he had the chance to hear, considering Ari did her best to conceal hers to a low rumble in her throat.

Bane opened his eyes again but did not turn his head to look at her. "Yes," he said, noticing a throbbing in his neck.

"You are a great protector, my child." The compliment fell on deaf ears. Great protector… Bane knew that as soon as Ish had knocked him out, he had gone right back to hounding Melisande. Bane's efforts had done nothing to protect her. "Your friend, Amir, spoke to me about you. I was told you are very kind, and indeed I have seen that it is true." He felt as though an invisible weight were sitting on his chest cavity. "I wanted to thank you for defending me. That is the mark of a true man."

With a sweep of her robes, she rose to her feet and was directed back to her cell. Bane could hear her light footsteps as she went along the way. She walked much differently than Ari did.

He would not let himself doze off before Ari was finished bathing. His ears picked up on every ripple of water and inconsistency in the evening until she was walking back to her cell in front of Hassan. As soon as she was within seeing distance, he started to pull himself up into a sitting position. He gripped one of the bars and heaved, ignoring the searing protests of his abdomen. He could feel Ari's eyes on him as he moved too quickly for his body's liking. He clenched his jaw and squeezed his eyes shut, but other than that, he refused to show any sign that sitting up was taking more effort than he had exerted in ages.

Before he had even asked, Ari knelt down in front of him as he supported himself against the gate. Her eyes were inquiring after his comfort and health, but she said nothing to him. There was some unspoken communication between them, and she honored it well. She waited for him to speak patiently, paying close attention to his positioning.

Bane shifted his hand to where hers was lightly touching the metal that separated them. The word that had been scraped into her hand was bumpy to the touch, yet he continued to trace it as though he was not sure it was really there. It was astounding that someone had done such a thing to another person in the first place. As his body ached and he felt the remnants of her old wound, he wondered why the human person could reach such vicious motives. What drove them to act on violent desires? Why did physical strength matter so much to them?

"Were you raped?"

The question fell in the air like ice. Even in the darkness, Bane could see Ari's face lose some of its color. "Is that why you're here?" he went on, knowing well it was perhaps the most inappropriate thing he could have asked her. She didn't even blink, and her hand showed no signs of life even as he ran his thumb over the word "whore".

There was such sadness in her face. "He was of high-ranking," she said flatly. "When his wife found out, he told them I'd forced myself on him, and the judge sentenced me here, but not before granting the rapist's permission to brand me for what he told them I'd done."

She did not say any more than that, and he didn't blame her. Clearly the emotional wounds were still fresh in her mind, and he did not want to press her. There was nothing more he needed to know. It had been enough to anger him, and the protective instinct he had felt when defending Melisande welled within him again.

The men were relentless and up above, men had gotten away with crimes while leaving the victims at fault. As the thoughts spiraled rudely through his mind, he wanted to be able to defend himself and the other victims. He wanted to protect Melisande from Ish, to punch him in the face and beat him until _he _lost consciousness. He was not going to let it go on forever, because he knew none of them would ever leave the place, and at the very least, they deserved to feel safe in the place they called home.

Bane squeezed Ari's hand in his palm, staring at nothing. He would train like the others, as if he had hopes to escape. He would put himself through day after day of physical hell until he was bigger than the rest of them, until he could fight as an equal with every one of the prisoners, ruthless as some of them may have been. And by the time Melisande had her child—some three more months, he assumed—he would be able to defend the four of them: Melisande, her newborn, Ari, and himself.

"I will protect you," he stated with certainty. He did not take his eyes away from their interlocked hands. "Both of you."

Ari placed her free hand over his, cradling them together. She waited until she had caught his gaze before saying, "We will protect each other."

And without another word, they formed a pact. Ari did not know how well Bane identified with her crime. She did not know how similar they were and how close to home Ish had come with his words. But Bane knew that they shared an unspoken bond: she carried liveliness and energy that had died within him, but he could train himself to physical ends she could never reach. And he would.

**A/N:** This. Chapter. Is. Long. And I do apologize for that. I had such a time getting through it—I had so much to say and wanted to make sure it all could squeeze into one chapter, so I'm hoping it doesn't feel rushed or incomplete. I had some great feedback on the last chapter, you are all very encouraging and I thank you so much for your interest! I hope this chapter lives up to expectations, things will definitely be speeding up from here, especially since Bane is going to be getting into training. Please let me know what you think of this, as this chapter is a bit different than the others as far as Bane himself goes. Hopefully you managed to get through this long one, and if so, drop me a line about it! I'm always happy to hear from readers :)


	5. 4 Arba'a

**4. Arba'a**

"You ought to wait until you've fully healed, boy."

There was a doctor in The Pit—he wasn't a very good one, but he'd had a fair bit of training. His cataracts were getting worse by the day, but as far as Bane knew, the man could see well enough. The doctor had been tending to him ever since the fight with Ish that had occurred exactly four days ago. Judging by the increasing overall sensitivity and soreness of his body, he wasn't going to be healing any time soon. And he couldn't afford to wait.

Twenty-three pushups. He could only do twenty-three pushups before his arms couldn't hold his body weight anymore. It was a far cry even from being in shape, and it could hardly be considered the number of a strong man. On the first day he had done only seventeen, and even that had surprised him. When looking at his arms, he was very skinny indeed, and he determined that the only reason he was able to do as many as twenty-three was because the rest of his body weighed so little in the first place. Even his weak arms could support a lightweight.

"I don't have time to wait," Bane rasped.

"Ah." The doctor had been mixing up some variety of herbs that was supposed to reduce the swelling. Bane, who kept having to open and lift his robes to accommodate the medicine, was covered in purple welts that had risen up beneath the skin. The doctor was swearing by the herbs, but neither of them was seeing much of a difference. "You want to make the climb now, hm?"

The question was bound to come up eventually. Bane had not decided on the answer yet. No, he was not going to make the climb, but what was he supposed to tell those who asked? He couldn't very well say, "I want to be stronger so that I can win fights." It just didn't sound good.

Bane made a deep humming sound that seemed to suffice as an answer for the doctor. "Well, the harder you push yourself, the longer the healing process will be," he urged. "But desperation can strike at any time, I understand. Use caution."

Once he was in his cell alone again, Bane tried sit-ups. He could only do thirteen of those. Then he waited twenty minutes and did more pushups and more sit-ups, and he kept up with that cycle until Hassan brought him some food. As he ate, he felt a numbness in his upper body area. Even lifting the food to his mouth took an effort, and he considered briefly that he was pushing himself too hard, but it didn't bother him. The pain was a confirmation that his muscles were reacting to the exercise. He liked the feeling of it. It made him feel successful.

Later, as Bane passed the remainder of his food across to Ari, she sought an uncomfortable topic. "You know, Ish was punished for his actions," she said, clearly attempting to be helpful. He pressed his lips together and raised his eyebrows. "He is not to leave his cell at all for a month."

"It was my actions, too," Bane responded. "I started it in the first place." There was a bitterness in his words. It was senseless to feel the way he did about it, but at the same time, it was something he could not help. He knew he should have been punished just as Ish had been. After all, Bane had thrown the first blow. But the caretakers weren't going to punish him, because Bane had been brutally defeated. They felt sorry for him, and they didn't want to add insult to injury. He couldn't bring himself to appreciate it. It just made him angry.

"Well, all the same," Ari went on, "you've got nothing to worry about. You ought to come out at the fires tonight. It is easier to talk with you." Bane knew she had been wanting to have more private conversation with him for the last few days, but he hadn't left his cell. Each time Hassan or one of the other caretakers unlocked his gate, Bane immediately clicked it shut again. The first time he had done it, Ari had said, "Don't let them take your freedom." He hadn't answered her at all. He didn't appreciate the assumption that it was fear that plagued him. Whether or not that was the case, he didn't want anyone to think that. Especially Ari. If he was going to be their protector, he couldn't be so weak that fear would hold him back.

"We haven't gotten a chance to speak since the baths," said Ari, interrupting his thoughts.

"We're speaking right now," Bane said.

Ari didn't entertain his words. "You must know I have more to say to you," she pressed. "Privately. Things I don't want to have to shout across the whole prison. I always look forward to talking to you. You must know that. Don't you?"

He was disinclined to answer, but she would not stop looking at him until she received the desired response. "I know," he replied.

"I have missed you being here in the evenings," she said. The words caught him off guard. "Haven't you?"

Her face was bright and curious. Ever since the baths, she seemed to glow with less negativity. Perhaps it was just the fact that her face was not quite as smudged with dirt as it usually was. Her skin looked clean and untarnished, and though her eyes stood out less, she looked very pretty.

"…Yes," Bane assured her.

So when nightfall came and the fires were lit, Bane slipped through the gate as soon as Hassan unlocked it. His chest felt tight as he ventured closer to Ari's cell, where she sat upright on her knees eagerly. Her fingers smoothed over her short, black hair, following its precise direction. The motion was rhythmic and soothing, but Bane remained hyper-conscious of his surroundings—the people seated down by the center were eyeing him as expected, but he did not allow their stares to visibly faze him.

Ari jumped right into what it was she had to say. No sooner had Bane seated himself before her than she was speaking: "I want to see you, but I think that Melisande would like to have words with you at some point."

Bane hummed in response. "She spoke to me the same night. On her way back from the baths."

"I know," Ari answered. "I had wanted to speak to her then, myself—I mistakenly thought we would be in the baths together." She uttered the last word determinedly under her breath. "I want to tell her the truth about myself. I think the knowledge that she isn't alone would be soothing to her. I find that she often looks nervous. And I'm sure you know that the talk hasn't stopped, and it won't stop. Ish isn't bothering her anymore, of course, being that he isn't permitted out for a while, but the others are still fascinated by her. She is like a zoo animal. The thought of it…"

She trailed off and shrugged her shoulders. "It hardly makes sense, I know," she said lowly, "but she is like family to me now. We have barely spoken—except of you—" Here, Bane rubbed his nose and evaded her eyes. "—but we are connected somehow. And you, on our side, are a part of that family. Melisande is pregnant, is—as far as the others know—the only female in The Pit at all, is with child, and has no one else. Under constant scrutiny, I wonder how she's kept herself together."

Ari went on about Melisande, but Bane lost his concentration. He admired Ari for being so sensitive to others, but he hardly ever knew how to respond. He knew better than to disagree with her; she had the specific habit of being constantly correct in all scenarios. Not that there really _was _a right or wrong opinion in Melisande's situation.

Another thought lingered in the back of Bane's mind amidst Ari's words: she had said they were all like family, had immediately sought to lump Melisande in with them. That wasn't what bothered him. What bothered him was the fact that Ari was going to share the secret she seemed to value so much with Melisande, whom she had barely held a stand-alone conversation with. Not that she hadn't been rather willing to tell Bane when they had first met, but somewhere along the lines, he had grown to take pride in her secrecy. The fact that she trusted him, and him alone, was something he appreciated. It didn't make sense to be jealous of Melisande, but he was.

Ari had fallen silent and was chewing on her fingertips. Her dingy nails were ripped and torn from not only poor hygiene, but her rather neurotic habit of biting them. Bits of skin were peeling off from her cuticles, and he had half a mind to tell her to stop, but he said nothing. His mind had wandered again to the scar on her hand and what she had finally told him. He shouldn't have asked her—maybe she hadn't wanted to tell him, but, much like her gender, he had figured things out for himself.

The white mark on her skin made him angry. He could remember every last syllable of her explanation for it, and he repeated the story to himself whenever he was training. It stirred an unusual anger in him, reminiscent of the one he used to feel about his own "crime". Ari's seemed worse to him now in every possible way.

"You're sore, aren't you?" The question sliced through their respective thoughts rather rudely. "From all the training."

Bane briefly considered the overall numbness of his body. It was prominent in his shoulders and chest, and the mobility of his upper body seemed impaired. The very thought of even _touching _his abdomen hurt, and he had to conceal the wobble in his legs when he stood up to walk.

"No," he lied. Ari seemed to sense the dishonesty, but she did not point it out.

"Hopefully there will be meat with a meal that's coming up soon," she mused. "The protein would be good for your muscles. And you know…" Her diction softened. "…you should be eating more, if you're working this much. You don't have nearly enough to eat. And I was thinking—not that you would have to do the same—of giving some of my portions to Melisande when I get them. For the baby, you see. And I thought that if you didn't give me so much of your portions so often, then—"

"No." Bane cut her off as soon as he saw where she was going with it. "I'm not starving. I eat once a day, good helpings, and that's fine. That's enough." A rebuttal was already brewing within Ari, he could see, but he wouldn't hear it. He was not going to let her go hungry for those days she did not receive a meal, especially when he was doing just fine with what he had. Ari was welcome to give some of her food away, but he wasn't going to stop sharing his with her.

"Bane," said Ari gently. She extended her hand just behind the bars of her cell, gesturing for him to take it in his own. He was hesitant, but he tried not to give any nervous looks around him as he squeezed her fingers. Both of them knew they were being watched and judged. And although Bane was willing to pretend that their assumptions that he was gay didn't bother him in front of Ari, the mere idea that that was what people thought of him unsettled him. Without moving, he tried to ensure that their linked hands were washed in shadow. "I don't want you to make yourself sick for us," she said, referring to herself and Melisande, he presumed. He almost corrected her on instinct—almost told her that sure, he cared about Melisande's discomfort, but in the end, he was even doing _that _for Ari. "You work too hard, eat too little, and meanwhile…" She leaned forward, her eyes swiveling in the direction of the central fires. The flames danced in her eyes as they so frequently did. She did not look back at him before continuing. "...You shouldn't have to do any of this. And I hope that one day, we get out of this place. Me and you and Melisande and her baby."

She did not elaborate any further, but to mutter the words, "Thank you," again, and it fell on ears that had heard enough of the sentiment.

It was another few minutes before Bane heard Melisande call to him softly. Both he and Ari turned immediately to look in her direction, only to find her pushed back in the corner of her cell near her cot. She was leaning her head back in fatigue, smiling at them both inquisitively. "May I borrow him, my child?" she said, addressing Ari.

Ari straightened up and nodded vigorously. Bane wondered how much of their conversation Melisande had been able to overhear.

He sidled over to her, reluctant for whatever reason. He had interacted with Melisande even less often than Ari had. And as far as he knew, Melisande didn't know much about him other than what she had heard others say. "It will only be a minute," she said to him. He shook his head, insinuating that it didn't matter to him how long she took. "I have heard that you are training for the three of us," she confirmed as he knelt before her. Melisande lowered her gaze to her protruding stomach, massaging it slowly. "The four of us. Your youthful determination is admirable. You and Amir—" The glint in her eyes suggested she already distrusted Ari's false identity "—talk of togetherness. Of some bond, and the fact that you seek to include me in your concern warms my heart. However…" She expression darkened. "…I am not sure what the fate of this child will be," she said. "I have less than three months to go, and though I believe the child is healthy—I feel it kicking most days—how will it fare here? Especially if she is a female… I am not looking for advice, Bane. But I am warning you, that you may not need to protect the four of us. There may not _be _four of us."

Bane frowned. "If it is a female," he said, hoping he wouldn't be saying too much, "she could hide it for a long time. Maybe forever."

Melisande reacted dimly to the words. "Do you think we will be here forever, then?"

"I don't know." It was the most honest answer he could summon.

"I could die in childbirth," she countered, returning to the initial concerns. "There is very little medicine down here—and an even smaller amount that I would trust. Clearly the others are not used to a woman prisoner…no one will know how to deliver an infant."

"Amir would try. I would try."

"You are sweet, but the risk remains. And I am not here with you to plead or to ask favors or anything of the sort. I simply do not want your efforts to train to be in vain. If we die—myself or my child—you will have wasted such time."

Her words seemed harsh, like a damp cloud hung over them. He felt heavy in the conversation, as though she were weighing him down to lighten her own concerns. "It isn't a waste," he said all the same, "and we will not let you die."

"Ah." Melisande lost touch with their banter and became fascinated by her stomach again. "The child who never sleeps." She chuckled in the back of her throat. "Come. Feel it for yourself." It was not a question. She made small, circular gestures, inviting him in.

He felt artificial, as though he did not have control of himself. Already the palm of his hand had met with the soft material of her robes, feeling the roundness that contained a newly forming life. There were light, hollow beats stemming up occasionally from within her. He had never felt the kicking of an unborn child, never been so close to someone who carried two lives with them at once.

"This is Amir's family," said Melisande soothingly. "All of us, here."

Something was beautiful about the exchange. They said nothing else to one another, and Bane could feel the child's kicks in his palm even when he stood up to return to his quarters. Ari sat, awestruck by the occurrence as well. It didn't seem right to talk about it, but they both knew that Melisande wanted to be a part of their lives, and Bane knew that was important to Ari. Her suggestion to give Melisande extra food did not seem so farfetched now.

"I know it doesn't matter," Ari said as he reached for the gate of his own cell to return inside. "_He _doesn't matter, I know that…"

"What?" Bane knew she would have elaborated, but already the words confused him. He hadn't expected her to say anything, and the fact that what she did say didn't seem to have to do with Melisande was perplexing.

"Ish doesn't matter." She was nearly inaudible. "And he is wrong in every…possible way I can think of, but—"

"Ari." Bane's brow furrowed as he stared down at her. She looked infinitesimal beneath him, under the shadow of his structure. "What?"

She leaned even closer. "You don't have to answer. They think the way they do of you because they assume that you…you and I…" She didn't seem to be able to finish the sentence, but Bane knew exactly what she wanted to ask. Ish was only considering Bane's sexuality at all because of his attention to Ari, which was, of course, standout to the others, considering to them, she was a male. Ish assumed that Bane liked Ari—that Bane liked another man in the wrong sort of way. And Ari was wondering if it were just their suspicions, or if really, he was paying her a particular kind of special attention.

She ended the half-hearted question by saying, "And I was wondering if it was true." He was immensely glad she had prefaced by telling him he didn't have to answer, because he couldn't have made himself speak even if he had the words. His mouth had gone dry with such immediacy that he nearly coughed, and there was nothing at all he figured he could say. Did he even know?

He was having trouble focusing directly on her. It was hard to interpret his own feelings about the subject. He wanted to think he was surprised that she had asked about it, but it would have been truer to say he was more surprised she had taken so long to ask. It had been days since Ish had made the presumption. Had she been wondering since then? How long had it been occupying her mind? And why did she care?

Every possible idea was swimming through his mind as he stood there, frozen. Ari seemed to be shrinking under his gaze, as though retracting her words. And even though Bane had absolutely no idea how to respond, he felt his arms itching to move in some way. It was as though his mind was deciding what to do with his limbs, battling through several different options at once. Somehow, Ari seemed to notice his internal conflict. The look on her face shifted abruptly from uncertainty to patience.

Bane's blood was pumping tangibly throughout his entire body. He could feel the pulsing from his neck to his ankles. His thoughts were occupied entirely by Ari and their relationship and what he was going to say and what he meant and what he felt and how it was supposed to work because he hadn't _thought _about it yet. He hadn't sat down and considered it. Sometimes he looked at her and thought she looked nice, and sometimes, if ever he felt anything remotely sexual, she came to mind. But he always felt guilty even beginning to associate her with sex, especially given their similar experiences. He didn't want to see her that way. He wanted to see her as a sister, a companion, _family_, the way she wanted.

But he didn't.

When at last he felt the strength to move his arm, he made a sharp movement that caught them both off guard. But in another moment, Hassan appeared at his side, startling him. The caretaker coaxed Bane back into his cell, backing him up until the gate could be closed.

It wasn't that there was any greater distance between them suddenly; Bane was separated from Ari the way that he usually was, as was custom. But watching the gate close between them caused his stomach to sink, and he could not look away from her as he stood there dumbly, his arms dangling at his sides and his mouth agape. He was very particular of his own expressions. He kept himself in place at all times, if he could manage, and having his mouth hanging open was not something he wanted. Yet he could not seem to close it.

Ari was looking at him, too, and her gaze was equally unwavering. It was as though a force between them held their attention to one another, and even as The Pit grew dark when the fires were extinguished and replaced with heavy smoke, Bane looked at Ari and wondered what he had intended to do in the first place. He wondered what might have happened if Hassan hadn't come at that exact moment, and how Ari would have responded to whatever that thing might have been.

Bane felt, for the first time in ages, grave disappointment in being locked away. Desire welled in him, and he could not remember the last time he had wanted so desperately to be free. He wanted to be walking around on his own, to be able to interact with anyone he wanted without some barrier, to have as much food as he wanted whenever he wanted it. The feeling hadn't happened in such a long while, but he recognized it: he knew that at least on that night, he wanted to make the climb. He wouldn't do it just then, but he stood there, staring at Ari, thinking of freedom and success and feeling alive.

When the feelings passed and Ari and Bane looked away from each other, he worked on pushups again. It felt better in the dark, when the others couldn't see him. His eyes automatically worked to adjust to the lack of light around him. When he felt like he was in nothingness—utterly alone—he felt stronger than he was. He was sure it didn't really make a difference, but it mattered to him. When he was alone that way, no one else could defeat him.

He pushed himself up onto his knees and brushed the palms of his hands together, watching as dirt flaked onto the ground below him. It occupied his attention for only a moment before, out of the corner of his eye, he saw a pair of eyes glowing out across from him. The familiar, bright blue stood out unlike anything else, even in darkness. Ari's eyes shone through in his direction the way the fire had never done, despite all of its colors and life.

Ari was fascinating. Her face, her eyes, the way that she smiled even when she was crying.

"I do like you, Bane." Her voice did not take him aback in the slightest. "You are so full of goodness."

Immediately, he felt as though his chest were swelling with air. His pulse quickened and he could feel his face and neck tingling. There were so many things he wanted to say to her, but he couldn't seem to conjure the words.

**A/N: **As some of you may be starting to notice, I am actually adding certain things that my reviewers are asking to see or suggesting : ) As long as it doesn't cause the story to deviate from the core plot, I'm definitely willing to consider adding very small subplots, such as an extra conversation or anything that doesn't change anything SUPER major, because as a matter of fact, I actually have this story pretty much figured out! At least, I have Part 1 entirely figured out. Part 2 is still a work in progress xD Anyway, I hope you all are happy with this chapter; I got a GREAT response on the last one, heard from a few new readers as well. Thank you guys very much for your feedback, it really means a lot to me, and ends up helping me in the long run. Looking forward to your feedback on this chapter! Sorry it took so long to update, what with school starting and two jobs, I'm a bit swamped at the moment, but I promise to continue.


	6. 5 Kamsha'a

**5. Kamsha'a**

Time seemed to pass quicker, and not in a way that Bane liked. The more he worked, the shorter the days became, and he felt as though he were running out of time constantly. The notion made him increasingly nervous, although he knew it shouldn't have been. Weeks went by and he felt a significant difference in his strength and knew he had gotten bigger, but Ari was right about the food—he was still small, and there was only so much he could do to change that without the proper diet.

He wanted to be strong enough to defend himself and the others by the time Melisande gave birth, and he knew time was waning. But it wasn't a real _goal_. He wasn't sure how big or how strong he had to make himself in order to win against someone Ish's size. All he wanted to do was help, but helping was not as clear-cut as he'd thought.

Things between Ari and himself remained stationary, as did their communal relationship with Melisande. Ari continued to exhibit concern about the level to which he was pushing himself as far as training went, but something else lay beneath her surface. She was quieter than usual, and going through a day without hearing Ari's voice was strange to him. She seemed quite a bit more pensive compared to her regular demeanor.

She hadn't asked about their relationship again, not since the night she had wondered about Ish's accusation. Bane hated to admit it to himself, but he found himself partially wishing she was still curious about it. Even he was still searching for a proper answer for it. Weeks had gone by, and he still didn't have the right response for her. He supposed it was a good thing she hadn't kept up with asking; if she had, and he still kept silent, it might have annoyed her.

"Melisande's getting most of this, you know," said Ari after one of Bane's workouts. He shoved his remaining food to her somewhat carelessly now, because he knew what she said was true. He wanted to believe it wasn't—not that he didn't care about Melisande. He understood that she needed extra food, but it made him feel somewhat purposeless knowing that the food he was giving Ari wasn't helping her in the least. It felt indirect and impersonal and he wanted things to feel more genuine than they did.

"I know," he answered lately, his expression darkening.

It wasn't until later on that he saw Melisande. He was not sitting outside of Ari's cell every night anymore, but rather, a few nights per week. Often, he greeted Melisande warmly at some point, warmed up by the fire (the nights were growing somewhat colder), and conversed sparsely with Ari before training until The Pit was pitch black and he had warn himself into a deep sleep.

That night, Melisande thanked him for providing Ari with the extra food. It didn't translate in his mind to genuine gratitude, so he hummed a half-hearted response and evaded the subject. Instead, he found himself oddly preoccupied by the size of Melisande's stomach. She had grown rapidly within the weeks he had passed with rigorous training, and Bane knew it was only a matter of time before the unfortunate child was born into hell on earth. He considered the idea of it occasionally on his own, and he knew that Melisande was concerned about the fate of her child. She was worried that one or both of them wouldn't even make it through the birth. Bane found it hard to believe that Melisande would die. Although her health was compromised in The Pit, her spirit was very strong and confident. It wasn't impossible that she passed, but she gave the vibe of a vigorous fighter—a vibe he admired and coveted. He hoped that one day, he, too, would exude sureness of himself.

Ari had since told Melisande the secret of her gender, which had briefly thrown Bane into frustration. He hadn't spoken to either of them for several days, doubling up on his training until the doctor came to visit him and assured him that his body would give out if he didn't slow down. After that, he came to terms with Ari's need for some sisterhood with someone, and she couldn't very well get that if Melisande thought she was a man.

"Ish is being released tomorrow, you know," said Ari as Bane made his way back to his cell. He paused and lowered himself into a squatting position, leaning into her so as to hear her undertones. "I hope you will not start a fight."

He shook his head, hesitant to give her an honest reply. In the end, he allowed her the truth: "I am not ready to fight yet. I may be stronger—I might have endurance now. But it doesn't make me a fighter. It means that I last. That, and nothing more."

Ari seemed to understand. She tucked a short strand of hair behind her ear; tomorrow, she would have her head shaved again. Bane noticed that the more often it was cut, the faster it grew. "You need someone to spar with," she assumed from his sentiment.

"If I'm going to fight, of course."

"And you plan to, I think," she suggested. "Defensively, given, but fighting nonetheless."

"Yes."

A line appeared between Ari's eyebrows. "How about me?" Almost immediately, Bane's chest tensed. "Will I do?"

His speech was impeded momentarily by the rush of thoughts that flooded his mind at the idea of such a thing. There was no way he could bring himself to consider such an offer from her, and while he appreciated her, he was baffled that she had asked in the first place. Ari must have known he would have said no. She was incredibly small, and shrinking in response to Bane's muscle gain. His own build shrunk her own body down further, and he almost found her offer laughable. Because of this, he managed to say nothing constructive. Instead of saying, "You know that won't work," or, "Absolutely not," he simply pointed out, "You are always in your cell. We'd never have the opportunity." He supposed it would never happen even if he were to let her believe he was considering training with her. Briefly, he wondered if she was wanting to build herself up for defense as well.

"I think we could arrange it," she prodded. "Hassan is fond of me, he knows who I am."

"Yes, Ari, but he follows rules nonetheless."

"Then we can devise a plan. You will attempt to make the climb, and I can ask to be released to view it. He will have to grant that. They always do. And then, when I am being returned here, I can slip by him, pretend to be in my cell, and spend the rest of the evening working with you. If we do it at night," she said, her whisper going hoarse as she tried to reign in his attention again, "it won't be so hard. The nights are growing foggier and darker—they won't be able to see. Bane, consider it. Please."

"Ari, I am twice your size now, if not more," he reminded her. "It wouldn't make sense. It wouldn't be fair."

"You wouldn't have to hit me," Ari pressed on. "We could wrap our knuckles and pad them, and mimic. There are footwork techniques we could learn by doing, and if we worked on them together, we could get somewhere with it. The both of us. I could learn to dodge and you could learn to trace my movements to catch me. Together, we could teach one another. Don't you see? It's the best option."

But Bane was hearing more than the surface of her words. "You don't think I can keep you safe," he garnered.

"I do think you can," she answered hastily. "I know you can, and you will, but I want to help."

He wasn't sure how to answer. Her interest in sparring seemed truly motivated by her desire to help, and he knew that he needed to. She must have been thinking about it for a while, waiting for him to bring up his actual fighting technique. And when he admitted to her that he didn't _have _a technique, she had seen the window of opportunity right before her eyes. Ari was full of determination—a situated individual who worked things out in her mind and needed for them to pan out just the way she'd imagined. If she wanted to be his sparring partner, she was not going to take no for an answer.

Furthermore, Bane knew it would have been a grand opportunity to her: she was never allowed outside of her cell except in special occasions, such as watching someone make the climb or the communal baths. And it wasn't just her. He couldn't help but admit that he had, for quite some time, wished her arrangements were different for his own personal reasons. Even when she was allowed out, it never seemed to coincide with the times Bane was out. The barrier between them seemed unrelenting and eternal, as though the bars that stood between them were much more than physical separators. Something in the pit of his stomach told him that things would be magnificent if they could stand before one another without anything keeping them apart. He didn't know why he thought so, but at the same time, he wasn't sure he cared _why_.

"…How will we get back to our cells without them knowing?" Bane asked her, resolving himself.

"Wear your scarf," she ordered him, referring to the blue-green head covering that usually hung loosely about his neck. "Cover your nose and mouth with it and blend in with the prisoners who spend their days roaming free. Then, when Hassan opens your gate again in the evening for you to come to the fires, you can slip back in without anyone noticing."

"Ari, they will notice when I am not in my cell for an entire day," he pointed out. "They bring food and water to me."

"Then leave your spare robes in the corner in a heap. Make it look like your body and they will think you are resting or thinking or—they will know to leave you alone."

"And what will you do?" he offered. "You are not allowed out for the fires. They will not open your gate again in the evening for you to slip back inside."

The look on Ari's face gave Bane the answer before the words had exited her lips. "I will have to be caught out of my cell," she said plainly. "They will have to spot me walking free during the day and realize I am not where I ought to be, and they will take me back to my cell and that will be all."

"No," said Bane adamantly. "You will be punished."

"How? They will withhold another meal from me and that will be it. It is not unusual for someone locked away so often to try something like this. They will be used to it, and I have never once tried to get out for a taste of unguarded freedom. Hassan is understanding, Bane. If I tell him I wanted only to feel free for a little while, he may not even punish me at all, if he can help it."

Bane was still leery of the idea, but his selfishness was outweighing his concern over the issue. "Tomorrow night then," was all he said.

As soon as he made the commitment, tomorrow appeared rapidly. It was as though the moment he was back in his cell, it had already become the next day, and he was beginning to dread the idea of sparring with her. His heart would skip several beats at a time, quickening itself in order to regain its normal speed. His nerves were acting up horribly, and he was more anxious than he could remember being. The closest he had come was when he had confronted Ish initially, but even then, things had begun and ended so quickly that his anxiety hadn't had time to fully set in. But the more he thought about what he would be doing that evening, the more uncomfortable he felt. Did he think he might accidentally hurt her? Possibly. Did he think she could hurt him? Unlikely. Something else was making him nervous.

When dusk fell, Bane began arranging his spare robes very particularly on the rusty, rickety cot that was pushed back in the corner. He pushed it up against the back wall, concealing as much of it as he could behind the small shelf of shoddy dinnerware. The extra clothes he piled into a long heap that ran lengthwise across it, giving them the appearance of an immobile body. In glancing across, he found the Ari had done something similar, although she accepted the fact that there was no way for her to avoid getting caught.

Bane's mind crossed briefly to the idea of attempting the climb. He knew there was nothing really riding on it—it was all a ploy to get himself and Ari out at night. But nevertheless, he felt an obnoxious spring of slight hope make its way into him. He had only attempted the climb once before, when he was quite young…

"_Deshi basara…" A chant that seemed more of an order. Why can't you succeed? You have no choice: you make it up or you don't come back. And of course it made no sense, because there was almost no chance he could do it—no one had ever made it before._

_Bane, twelve years old, has been in The Pit for much too long already. He hadn't tried to escape right away because he just _knew _it wasn't the right time. There will be an opportune moment and finally, he had reached it. He stands among a group of men, nervous about their proximity. A man three times his size wraps a rope about his middle, and Bane is reminded instantly of his descent to The Pit. It was the same process, except this time, he was responsible for getting to the other side. That was it: if he could just think of it as crossing to another side…_

Hassan was going around to unlock the cells now and distribute water. The fires were sparking to life as usual, and Bane succumbed to a single shiver.

_The rocks were cold against the palms of his hand. It reminded him of being lowered up from the well in his backyard, back when his mother still loved him and his father could look him in the eye. He wondered what they were doing now—if they had had another child to replace the dirty failure they had created._

He drank very quickly, faster than he normally did. When the door of his cell swung open, he did not leave immediately. Watching the way that Ari was wrapping her knuckles, Bane reached onto the shelf where the doctor usually kept extra cloth for bandaging. There wasn't very much, considering most of his stock had gone to mending his wounds from the fight with Ish. But he wound them around his hands nevertheless, promising that he would not hit her accidentally even once.

The fires began to die down much too soon. The caretakers were doing rounds again, returning the prisoners to their cells. When Hassan reached his to close the gate, Bane acted. "I'm going to make the climb tonight." The words slid from Bane's throat hastily. He knew if he didn't get right to the point—say it aloud while he still could—he would have abandoned the idea in its entirety and disappointed Ari. Hassan's response was uninteresting; he had clearly expected to hear the words in the near future. He nodded, raising his eyebrows as though commending Bane for finally working up the courage again. Bane found issue with the attitude, but said nothing more as Hassan said, "I will leave it unlocked, just in case." Just in case what? They both knew he would be returning to the ground in no time.

"Hassan." Ari's small voice called to the caretaker from across the hallway.

_The light shines down from above, absolutely blinding. It has been so long since he's been face to face with it—wading in the sun in one way or another. He almost wants to pause, to remain stationary on the rock wall and allow the warmth to fill him from the outside in. But he moves along, scaling slowly up, keeping an eye on the ledge that he must reach—knowing he must make a jump where he has seen many fall. He begins to consider the pain of the rope going taut against his body if he is to come down…but he swipes the thoughts away. He will not be coming back. He is going to be the one to do it. _

Bane trudged numbly to the center, where the other prisoners were dispersing from the fire's ashes. He could feel their eyes on him, but he refused to look back at them. He did not want to see their reactions. He knew the moment they made the connection—the moment they knew he was going to "make the climb"—they would begin to hope for him. He wished he could have done it later, in secret, when no one else was around, but he knew it wouldn't have worked for his plan with Ari.

Deshi basara… He hated to think they would beg it of him the moment the rope was wound about him.

_He reaches the ledge and the chants have grown louder and faster. They are strong and dominating, and he begins to flash back to the alleyway that damned him to hell. He tries to reconcile it, tries to tell himself that they are not against him this time, that they are on his side. He pushes himself up on the ledge, his limbs shaking more and more violently by the second. He steadies himself, reaches a standing position, and the voices below are positively deafening. The sun beats down on his shoulders, scalding his skin. _

_He takes a step back, breaths deeply, and jumps._

Bane flinched severely as a hand clapped down on his back. One of the men had separated himself from the crowd and come to give Bane words of wisdom. The man's large hand remained on Bane's shoulder as he spoke: "Save your energy for the jump, boy. Pace yourself. Reach from your toes. The bottom of your feet, and then you jump. Not before you are ready. Take your time."

_He feels the other ledge scrape against his fingers but he isn't even close—he misses the ledge and begins to fall back into the prison, blinded not by the sun, but by the blurring darkness of disappointed faces and cruel, unrelenting stone._

_The rope jerks him to a stop, and he swings freely back where he is meant to be forever, so it seems._

Already the chant was beginning. The man who had once been three times Bane's size was significantly smaller in comparison now. Neither of the two spoke, but the man evidently recognized Bane in some way. His toothless grin indicated familiarity as he tied a knot around Bane's abdomen. The chant was not the same as it usually was. He knew they must have been suspecting something—they knew he had never expressed interest in the climb since his first failed attempt.

He blocked them out as they stepped up behind him, eyes locked on him from all directions. He knew that if he constantly reminded himself that it did not matter, that he could make it up three yards and jump down and find success. He didn't need to exhibit the effort, but he found himself conflicted. He thought of Ari, and how when he came down again, he was going to be in her presence in a way he had never been before. She would be down there, waiting for him, and she would be happy to be free, happy to have the chance to roam around wherever she wanted for the night. The idea of it was pleasant, but didn't she deserve to want more? Wasn't it sad that freedom had become a walk outside of a cell when there was much more waiting for them in the real world?

For a fleeting moment, he thought that perhaps, he really did want to escape. But he knew that he couldn't go without her.

He stood before the wall now, but before he climbed, he looked over his shoulder at the people behind him. He blinked several times and swallowed dry air when he spotted Ari in the back of the crowds, her face covered with a scarf, hiding all but her eyes. She did not seem to be smiling, but when they made eye contact, she gave him a miniscule nod, as though wishing him luck. He wasn't sure what he needed it for, but he had never wanted to embrace her more than he did in that moment.

He started up, pushing out all other details. He climbed as quickly as he could, carelessly, completely ignoring the man's advice. Bane was glad he had nothing to stare into—the upper world was immersed in nighttime, and there was no inviting light to be fascinated by. He simply trekked up as fast as he could manage so that he could get back down as soon as possible. He didn't even make it to the ledge before he lost his footing and began the startling fall back down. The tightness of the rope brought back the occasional pain in his spine.

The chants immediately died down, and Bane could not have gotten away from the scene quickly enough. He wriggled out of the rope willingly, his head pounding from the sudden shock of falling and being stopped abruptly. As soon as he was free of the scene, he wound his scarf around his mouth while the other prisoners began to return to their cells to go to sleep. Bane dawdled, forcing his mind to work quickly. If he walked closer to his cell and then hid away in the darkness, Hassan would have to assume Bane was back in his rightful place.

Ari appeared to be doing the same. He watched her move gingerly from the center, fading in and out of the hazy air. When they both reached the dark hallway that housed their arrangements, he lost sight of her completely, and he knew that was a good thing. Looking over his shoulder, he found that none of the caretakers were even looking in their direction.

"Wait with me in the corner." Ari's voice was a secret hiss through the void, but he knew it was her. He knew he ought to find the event thrilling—he got the impression that she did—but he could not tear the worry away from himself. His nerves were still off balance from his attempt at the climb. He knew it really meant nothing, but still, the idea of it loomed over his head as though it were just the same as if he had actually believed he was going to escape. He could still hear them chanting in his head.

Bane was sure his pulse had stopped entirely as he stood sideways in a little nook between two empty cells. Ari was across from him, but he could not see her. That was good, he supposed. The darkness was so severe that there was no hope of them being seen by anyone. It was startling, however, to feel so lost in absolute blackness. The thought of being unseen by anyone else was comforting, but conversely, he felt out in the open, wandering around unlocked at night. There was a vulnerability in it, even though he knew better. It shouldn't have been an issue, but it was all the same.

He could hear locks clicking around him, very close to him, in fact. As the sound grew nearer, he was willing to bet that Hassan had already closed both Bane's and Ari's cells. He closed his eyes; the smoke was making his eyes water.

They waited for a long while until all footsteps died down and things felt settled. Bane wasn't sure how they had managed to coordinate their decision to move, but as soon as he took a step forward, he had the sense that Ari was doing the same. He knew they would have to be quiet, and already he was beginning to think through all of the holes in their plan.

A small breeze crossed over him. If he squinted, he could just barely make out Ari's outline in front of him, but it caught him off guard nonetheless when she reached out and touched his arm. Her fingers moved curiously over the material of his robes, as if she weren't sure that he was really there. But she must have known—she was very close to him. He could feel the warmth of her breath on his neck. It had never occurred to him how much shorter she was than him. Whenever he was by her cell, she was always seated on the ground neatly.

His heart was definitely not beating.

Ari held on to his arm and eventually took hold of the other, steadying him in his place definitively. After another moment, she let go with one hand and replaced it smack in the middle of his face, her palm adjusting to accommodate his nose. She covered his face and mouth and he was desperate to keep still, because he could feel her hand on his lips and he wasn't sure he liked it.

In hardly any time, she had retreated entirely. "Let's go," she murmured, her presence fading from his.

The two of them walked to the center of the Pit, walking down several flights of precarious stairs. Bane had only ever used them during the communal baths, except perhaps when he was younger. Either way, it had been a while. And it didn't help that Ari kept stopping in front of him with no warning whatsoever. Whether she was willing to admit it or not, she, too, was anxious about being out. "Are we going all the way to the bottom?" she whispered. After thinking for a moment, he said, "The very bottom. Where there are no other cells."

When they were there, Bane found that, if at all possible, it was even darker than it was closer to the top. While that fact made him feel disappointed, it inspired Ari. "I've never sparred before," she said. Her eagerness was apparent in her tone.

"Neither have I," he told her honestly. He was feeling incredibly doubtful. "I don't think this can work. It's too dark, I might hit you."

"That's why you wrapped your hands, isn't it?"

"I didn't do a very good job…"

"Well, you can't back out now." She gave him a strong-hearted push in the chest. "We're already here. So if you won't start things, I will."

And without another word, her padded fist collided with his stomach, utterly knocking the wind out of him. As he made to recover, she continued to speak. "I stay awake mostly during the night. It's good for the eyesight. Defensive. You have to make your body learn to see without light. You don't always need your eyes to tell you where things are."

She swung another fist, higher up this time, but Bane heard the wind whistle around it in time to duck out of the way. "Can you see me?" he asked her, baffled. He squinted in the night. He could just barely see her outline, but it seemed she could see much more of him than that.

"Yes," she said. She threw another punch, one that he did not avoid. It was evident she had never fought before, which did not surprise him. Although there was strength behind her blows, she had no particular talent in aiming. Not that he could judge, considering he had only delivered a punch once in his life.

After a few minutes of evading her attacks, Bane began to get a sense of Ari's body movements in the dark. If he looked hard enough, he could see the difference between her and empty space. He began to be able to hear the direction of her steps and the air molding around her limbs as she made to strike. After hours of sparring, he even felt that he was beginning to sense her whereabouts and predict her next move. She was better at "seeing" than he was, but it didn't much matter to him. He was deliberately attempting to keep from hitting her, and whenever it happened by accident, she shook it off quickly.

They remained in the bottom of The Pit until light began filtering down as dawn broke. They had taken breaks, but despite that, Bane had never been more tired in his life. Ari, who clearly had the energy of several people, was not nearly as tired as he was. "Hassan will be up soon," she said, and it was the first time he'd seen her face since the fires. She was smiling. "And the rest of them, of course." She pulled her scarf over her head and wrapped it over her nose and mouth. Bane followed suit, remarking that it would be much harder for her to blend in. He hadn't seen anyone else in The Pit with eyes as bright as hers. "It doesn't matter," she answered. "I'm going to get caught anyway, remember?"

He remembered.

Throughout the day, Bane was able to blend in with the older prisoners who roamed free during the day. It was not hard—they were not very astute and did not sense anything out of the ordinary. He did not speak to them if he could help it, and instead kept a very close eye on Ari, who was also wandering somewhat aimlessly. He was beginning to feel even guiltier about her having to be caught while he would easily be able to slip back into his cell by the end of the day. On the other hand, she seemed a lot happier with the freedom of choice. She climbed the stairs at least twice, which must have taken over an hour at the speed she was going. He had incredibly mixed feelings about what they had done.

He nodded off several times while sitting up against a wall. No one seemed to find anything significant in that either. And when it finally came time for the fires, Bane stood innocently by the wall, face covered, as he watched Hassan unlock his gate without any knowledge of his absence.

Ari appeared at his side, but they did not look at each other. "Go back to your cell, quickly," she said. "Make sure Hassan sees you in it, but don't let anyone see you walk back in. When you are inside, I will confess when he gets to my cell."

Bane agreed to do so with some amount of shame. He traipsed away from her, carefully checking his surroundings before slipping back inside his cell, leaving the door open. Hassan had left water on the ground for him, which Bane immediately took up and drank. All night, while he had been sparring with Ari, he had wished for something to drink. His throat was still dry from the exertion, but he was no stranger to training without the proper nourishment. In the end, he felt accomplished.

Then, he was forced to watch Ari take the fall for them both. As Hassan came back around to attend to her briefly, he nodded to Bane, and was taken aback by Ari, who was standing before her cell. She did not allow the caretaker a chance to speak, delving fully into her story instead. "I did not go back to my cell after watching the climb last night," she told him truthfully. Bane's stomach sunk. "I stayed out because I have never been given the chance to feel free in any way. I'm sorry, and I accept whatever punishment I am given."

Hassan reacted quickly. He unlocked her gate and coaxed her inside, looking all around him. Bane averted his gaze when the caretaker's eyes passed over his cell.

And then, without a doubt, Bane heard the words, "I saw nothing."

* * *

Another two weeks passed, during which Ari had offered to spar with him again, which was not the least bit surprising to Bane. Once she had realized that Hassan was going to let her get away with it, she lost all remaining sense and was eager to bend the rules again. She had expected to lose more meals, to be on further lockdown, and when she found that this was not the case, she was willing to see how far she could push the limits. "I told you Hassan liked me," she gloated one night at the fires. Bane had left the comment unanswered and had not agreed to spar with her again.

"I'm not going to keep making the climb over and over again," he said flatly. "You're free to give it a try, but I don't like it."

"I don't mind doing it," she said. "Come on, we should do it at least once more. Didn't you find it thrilling?"

But one night at the fires, Bane realized fighting with Ari would not be his next opportunity to train. As he sat in his cell, drinking water, he saw Ish illuminated by the dim light of the flickering fire in the walkway. His hard face twisted into a grin. "I'm out now, you see," Ish pointed out. Bane looked up at him with disinterest—whether or not he was stronger than Ish remained to be seen, but he was not half so intimidated by the man. "And I thought perhaps to let it go, and to forget that it was _you _that got me chained up for all those weeks. But then I realized there was no point at all to forgetting when we could just finish where we left off." He pulled the gate open and it creaked audibly as it swung round. "No, no, don't get up," said Ish at the sight of Bane's movements. "I said we'd finish where we left off, and if I recall, you were on the ground."

He was blocking the doorway, but his words were enough to set Bane into motion. He was on his feet now, and Ish was ready to react immediately. Behind him, Bane glimpsed Ari's intent expression. He knew she would rather him not fight at all, but clearly she was expecting it. "Get out of my cell," Bane ordered the man. He started to walk forward, and Ish raised his fists defensively.

"I'd rather stay in here," Ish replied, "so that when I kill you, your body will already be out of the way."

Ish threw the first punch, but very early on, Bane took note of the fact that Ish could not see nearly as well during the night. In that moment, Bane valued Ari's advice about seeing in the darkness more than anything he'd ever learned. He was out of the way of the first blow, and in turn, he had gotten hold of Ish's forearm and pushed him back through the doorway. At that point, Bane knew he could've left things as is—closed his cell and allowed Ish to abuse him with words, but his excitement was ahead of him. As Ish regained his footing, Bane quickly hit him in the lower stomach and retreated further into the walkway, away from the light of the fires.

His confidence worked against him, however. The more successful he felt, the more careless he became, and Ish hit him in the jaw before Bane had a chance to block him. Then it became clear that Ish still had the upper hand—much more firsthand experience with fights than Bane had had, of course. But Ish had not been training the way Bane had for the last couple of months, and Bane was much, much faster and more nimble. He did not have as much power in his muscles as Bane did, and that was what he felt mattered. Even though Ish was better at blocking and retaliating, Bane could hurt him more when he was able to get to him.

Soon enough, Bane gave up fighting fairly. He pushed Ish back into the heavy bars of someone's cell, watching his head knock harshly into the metal. The occurrence seemed to temporarily stun Ish, giving Bane the opportunity to push his forearm up into Ish's neck. There were hoards of onlookers now, and he knew it was only a matter of time before someone came to intervene. Bane felt Ish knuckles grinding into his stomach, but he would not release his hold on his neck. The idea that his opponent could not breathe was thrilling to him. He knew that now that he had Ish in that position, he was in charge. If he could hold on for long enough—ignore the searing in his abdomen as Ish pushed him back, keep his footing against the pressure to move—Ish could have disappeared forever.

A guttural groan reached Bane's ears. Although he did not look away form Ish's now very red face, Bane felt immediately that something was wrong. And indeed it was.

In a flash of several things occurring at once, Bane was being pulled away from Ish and hit in the face by a caretaker. Ari was waving her arms at him, pacing up and down in her cell against the bars, and the groaning was continuing. Things felt all a blur until finally, he heard the words, "She's going into labor. She's having the child."

**A/N: **This chapter was obviously SUPER long, but I've been told not to apologize for that anymore. Anyway, to my reviewers from last chapter, thank you so much for taking the time to let me know what you think. I think this story is really in motion, and I hope I'm able to keep your interest! Let me know what you think of this chapter. Did too much happen in one go? Not enough?


	7. 6 Sitta

**6. Sitta**

He could swear the earth was spinning beneath his feet. Bane was being held back by three people now, all of them caretakers. He glimpsed Ish hunched over against the bars, hacking as he took in the oxygen around him. At the sight of him, Bane made a quick lunge towards him, as if in instinct—a movement that Ish would've been too slow to defend himself from. It didn't matter, of course, because as soon as Bane moved, the caretakers yanked him back with what he would've considered unnecessary force. He knew he was in trouble this time. Ish had started it, but Bane had been caught in the act with the upper hand. Almost immediately, his mind drifted to concerns that didn't seem quite rational to him. He didn't worry about being confined for days on end or losing more portions. He didn't worry about how even if he _did _walk free, he was now Ish's specific enemy. Instead, Bane wondered when he would be able to be around Ari again.

At this point, he looked into her cell through the arms of the caretakers. He found her chewing on her nails again, her frosty eyes darting all around them. She offered him a moment's eye contact, during which he tried to ask her questions without speaking. But she shook her head slowly, mouth agape, as though she could not believe that so many things she found important were happening all at once. He couldn't blame her. The environment itself was poisonous.

"You stay where you are," the caretaker holding Bane commanded. The man gave a sturdy shove and began making his way through the crowd of people. Almost immediately, another man was limping from the opposite direction, and the other prisoners who had gathered around were moving swiftly out of the way.

"Let me through," the old doctor said. Clearly he had been awakened by the commotion—he looked even more unkempt than usual. But all the same, he made his way as quickly as he could to Melisande's cell, and Bane could not yet bring himself to look inside. Instead, he allowed his hearing to illustrate the situation for him. He could hear the doctor speaking low, presumably to another of the caretakers: "…I only observed one before I came here. I received small training and no certification, but I am sure that if…"

"I can help."

Ari's voice appeared in the ruckus, although Bane was sure the doctor hadn't heard her. "Please, listen, I can—my mother was a nurse, I was there when my sister was born, I can help with the breathing at least." Bane wondered when the rush of blood would dissipate from his brain, as he was only retaining very specific, not-so-important things. He knew he shouldn't have been concerned with the fact that Ari was talking about her family—that she had a sister—while Melisande was giving _birth_.

It wasn't long before her words attracted attention. She spoke fast, making sure to get all her points in while she had the caretakers' consideration. "Let me help her," she stressed when she had finished her attempts to convince them. "I can be the one to be there with her."

"But what can you do?" The doctor was still skeptical. "You cannot do it alone."

"I can help her with the breathing," Ari countered, her voice dropping under their gazes. "I remember the way my mother practiced it. And if you are there as well, she will be okay, will she not?"

The doctor remained silent, and the air acquired the very uncertainty he must have felt. Bane was not surprised; the man was a caretaker in an underground prison that, as far as he knew, was entirely made up of male prisoners. Although the doctor was no prisoner, it must have been years since he had even seen a woman other than Melisande. Bane knew the thought had crossed all of their minds: someone was going to have to help her physically deliver the child, and there was not a soul aside from Ari that wasn't uncomfortable with that. Perhaps someone older, a father in a past life in the upper world, might not have minded trying. But it was the strangest scenario Bane could think of. These men who allowed Melisande to occupy their minds nonstop as nothing but a sexual creature thought of what they would do if they were ever under her clothes. But now that she was going to be more exposed than ever, not a soul wanted to think about her body.

"If no one will do it…" The minute Bane began to speak, all eyes were on him, including Ari. He made sure to look at her while he spoke—he felt some unhinged fear of making eye contact with everyone else while he committed to something they were all afraid to volunteer for. "I will do my best to help you." He stood among them, half expecting his words to inspire others to offer assistance, but silence settled in The Pit definitively all the same. Ari was looking at him as though she had been lifted from the prison and was seeing the light of day for the first time in years.

When things were solidified, the caretakers began to swarm about amongst a low buzz of voices from the curious prisoners. Bane glimpsed Hassan giving Ari a confidential nod as he unlocked her gate. She took her time in exiting, slinking out slowly. Her eyes were darting around, examining the proximity of herself and the other prisoners; she appeared to be particularly conscious of Ish, who had fallen back several feet from the entire scene, although he was holding his head with his right hand and eyeing Bane every so often. Bane wondered briefly if he had done any kind of brain damage. Ish's head had hit the bars so hard.

In another moment, Bane was being coaxed, along with Ari, down into the hallway, approaching Melisande's cell. Along the way, he remarked at the tremendous transition that had taken place in the span of only fifteen minutes. He had gone from almost killing a man—from wanting to, in all honesty—to volunteering to help bring a life into the world. His thoughts veered into what Melisande might have been feeling during it all. Even though he had disagreed with her concerns and felt that both she and the child would remain safe, he was beginning to wonder now if he would be wrong. He could not shake the lack of sanitation from his mind with great suddenness. And the more he thought about it, the more his organs writhed in discomfort.

"Hassan is going to fetch water," the doctor informed them as he entered Melisande's cell. Bane allowed Ari to follow afterwards, and delayed his having to enter for as long as he could. "The child will need cleaning afterwards—some cloth will come around…"

"And some for her to drink," Ari suggested in a rather demanding tone. "When it's all done."

The phrase sounded menacing in some way. There was such a sense of finality about things, as though their lives had been winding down to this one familial moment in time. It was a morose sort of feeling for Bane. He wondered if Ari shared the feeling. He still hadn't walked inside yet…

He felt Ari touch his arm gently, but her grip was firm. "Here is how she should take breaths," she told him, and proceeded to demonstrate by taking a very deep breath and exhaling after several seconds, during which she closed her eyes. "She has to concentrate—relax herself and breathe deeply. And then after a bit of that, the breathing will speed up, you see? In through the nose, out the mouth, tell her that, Bane, all right? All she needs to do is focus. Focus on the breathing and it'll be easier for her. Come on, come inside."

He allowed her to guide him into Melisande's cell. Immediately upon laying eyes on her, Bane felt his stomach tense and worried that he might be sick. She was lying on her cot in the corner, her knees curled up to her stomach. Her eyes were closed and the tendons in her neck were tensed.

Ari's thumb was caressing his forearm now. "Just stand by her head and talk to her," she told him. Then she let go of him and addressed the doctor: "I will help deliver the baby. Just make sure she looks okay."

With another prodding, Bane approached Melisande's cot gingerly, his blood pulsing quickly through his veins. She didn't seem to notice their presence at all, and if she did, she did a very good job hiding it. He wondered how much pain she was in at the moment—he wondered what _kind _of pain it was. It couldn't have been like being punched in the stomach or the face, or being thrown onto the ground. He knew it was beyond his understanding, but he wished he could've at least had an idea.

When he was hovering over her at the top end of the cot, Melisande opened her eyes in a way that suggested her eyelids were made of lead. Bane forced himself to look back at her without wavering; he didn't want to be rude, but he was nervous. He wasn't delivering the baby. He didn't know why the entire scenario was as terrifying as it was for him.

"Are you going to be here the whole time?" she asked him blatantly.

He swallowed. "I would imagine so."

"And Amir?" Melisande always called Ari by that name, which was merited in the situation, considering the doctor was in the cell with them all. But the idea of Ari's false name always made Bane feel uneasy for whatever reason.

"Yes, and the doctor," he told her. "Uh…when do you think…I mean, are you ready for…"

Melisande reached up and found his hand, squeezing it tight within her own. She allowed her eyes to close again and she inhaled through her nose for quite some time. "When is the child coming, you mean," she presumed after exhaling. "If I knew, I would not be half as afraid as I am." She continued to take deep breaths. "But I think it will be soon."

"Well…" Bane noticed Ari standing at the food of the bed, her hands clutching the outer edges. She was staring at Melisande's reclining body with concern. "…You are breathing the right way, if it makes you feel better." Here, Melisande smiled, and may have even tried to laugh, but the sound was quickly quieted with a sharp gasp she emitted.

"Soon," she managed to repeat into his face. She did not let go of his hand.

They all remained where they were, perfectly still aside from Melisande's movements of obvious discomfort. None of them spoke while they waited with bated breath for the birth of an unlucky soul into the worst place Bane could think of. He wondered if, perhaps hundreds of years ago, anything even remotely similar had taken place. Perhaps being born in a prison was not so unusual, but The Pit was not a "usual" type of prison. He could not help thinking that the child had been doomed the moment that Melisande was lowered into hell on earth. He took a moment to consider what she had done to be sentenced to such a place, but he rid himself of the thoughts. It didn't much matter what she had done.

Melisande came to a point where she was drenched in sweat and at a loss for breath. She became restless and began to shout at them. Her face distorted with great discomfort and as she expelled a low groan, Ari looked up at Bane, then to the doctor. "Is there anything you can give her for the pain?" she asked the man. The question appeared to startle him, as he blinked several times and became fidgety.

"There may still be a bit of morphine left," he offered reluctantly.

"I don't need anything," Melisande interjected through gritted teeth. "I can do it alone." Neither Ari nor the doctor pursued the issue, and instead, after another few minutes, Ari suggested that Melisande begin pushing.

Bane could see the fear in Melisande's eyes, but she did not speak a word of protest. Instead, she looked up at him and said, "How should I breathe now?"

"In through your nose, out through your mouth," he told her. She nodded. "You can breathe faster than you were earlier."

"All right."

At that, everything started moving at double its average pace. That, or Bane's brain had slowed down and was not processing things nearly as quickly as he knew it should have been doing. His external thoughts shut down and he found himself relying on instinct to deal with Melisande's evident pain. When she pushed the first time, her face went bright red and when she caught her breath, he immediately told her to keep breathing right. He even did it with her a few times—it must have been hard for her to keep focus. He could hear Ari talking to her from he other end of the bed: "You're doing well, everything looks fine. You don't have much further to go, just push as hard as you can, okay?"

Melisande looked as though she wanted to cry, but Bane had the feeling she had too much pride to do so in front of them. Her face and neck were drenched in sweat now, and Bane kept having to move her damp hair off of her skin. She looked horribly uncomfortable, and he had taken to thinking about what would happen if the baby _didn't _live. Which would have been worse? For the child to be born dead or for it to live at first and die later on in The Pit? Was it possible that the child was better off dying in the end either way?

She was screaming now, and Bane wondered how she kept from crying. "It's okay, it's okay," he kept telling her. "You're almost done, I promise. Just a little bit more, you'll feel better, I promise." He thought about crying himself, but he knew it wouldn't happen. It would've been stupid.

All at once, Melisande inhaled at length and pushed one last time, and Ari was reaching for something and then all of a sudden, the sound of a newborn's cries echoed into the air. It all felt like a lapse in time from start to finish: from the moment the words, "She's having the baby," made it to his ears to this moment when they all stood around, ogling a child who was able to breath in the same oxygen now. A child who was covered in a mixture of fluids, who was crying hysterically…

Who was undoubtedly a female.

Bane didn't want to tell Melisande; he made his mind up that he would refuse to, even if Ari had asked him to break the news. He would not be the one to tell her the truth, could not force himself to let her know that her already cursed child was as worse off as any of them could fathom.

The doctor offered Ari the bowl of water and told her to wash the child off. But she clung to the newborn until the man retreated again—she, too, had noticed the baby's gender. Ari turned her back to them all in order to clean the new life and immediately afterwards, she wrapped it in the cloth, and it cried all the while.

Melisande was taking heaving breaths on the cot, staring up at the ceiling wearily. Bane felt tremendous sadness within him, but he managed to say, "You did it. I told you that you'd make it."

Eyes closing, she smiled at him. "You are an angel, my friend," she said.

Bane swallowed in attempt to help his dry throat, but it was to no avail. He looked up to Ari in spite of this and found her eyes already locked on him. They stared at each other while she held Melisande's baby in her arms tenderly, and for whatever reason, he was sure he had never seen anything so beautiful. Perhaps it was because Ari looked unmistakably like a woman, as though she were holding her own child. She was empathetic and concerned for others, and as she held the baby, her maternal instincts shone on her expression. Perhaps Melisande's baby was the most beautiful thing Ari had seen since being dropped into The Pit.

It felt as though they had been standing around for hours, Ari with the crying baby and Bane at the head of a sleeping Melisande's cot. The doctor suggested that they stay in the cell for the rest of the night—the fires had been long since extinguished, but Bane knew that plenty of the other prisoners had stayed awake. Ari was already seated facing the stone wall at the back of the cell, cradling the child who did not yet have a name. The doctor sat near Melisande's bed with water on hand, presumably to have it available for her in case she stirred. Bane did not feel right falling asleep, although he was exhausted.

"Come and sit," Ari invited him quietly. The moonlight that had previous illuminated the prison ever so slightly had disappeared entirely. He could only follow her voice in the darkness, though he had gotten much better at "seeing" in the shadows. "You were wonderful," she whispered. "You were very good with her." He sat down across from her against the wall and she was close enough to touch.

"I didn't deliver the baby," he said, passing off her compliment.

There was a mutual pause during which Bane considered the child's fate again. It was positively unbelievable, the entire scenario. He could hear the baby breathing very lightly thorough its nose, and he could sense that Ari was looking down at it. "Maybe they'll send her back up soon," she said. "Maybe her father is still out there, and they can contact him, and maybe she won't be punished for no reason." Bane knew it was wishful thinking, but he wanted to hope for the same with her. "It'll have to be kept a secret," she went on. "Another secret for The Pit."

Bane leaned his head against the cold rock wearily. "Don't think about it too much," he said. "There is nothing we can do."

"It all feels so surreal," she said, "wouldn't you say? I knew it was going to happen at some point—of course I knew she was going to actually _have _the baby—but I realize that it caught me off guard even still. I'm not sure what to do." She didn't say anything after that, and Bane was not sure if he was meant to respond. Instead, he focused on trying to pick out her figure in the darkness. He reflected about his desire to see her so often. It must have manifested from the other feelings he had regarding the girl. Somehow she had become a constant element of his mind, the way that he thought about breathing or having two arms and two legs. She was lumped in with things that he found necessary, but that were expected. She was there in the confines of his mind, a simple presence of someone who he had to deem part of himself in some way.

"I've been feeling sad lately." Her voice was an obvious sound, something that did more than existed. It was a profound effect on him and he could hardly bear its absence sometimes. When she went on and on, he'd roll his eyes and wonder when she was planning to stop, but in the back of his mind, he was drinking up her words and her melody. "It has to do with you. I think you are making me sad."

Bane sat upright, and at last, he got a glimpse of her. "Why do you say that?" He watched her form move around the baby, readjusting it in the crook of her elbow.

"I swear, it always feels like you're miles away, even when you're right here," she said. Bane felt his mouth go dry again. "I can't tell you how much I liked being out with you and sparring. And how much I like this. Because if I say too much about it, you will think I'm stupid."

"No, I won't." He meant it.

"I hate the way that you're always right across from me—just a few feet away—but you are still so far away. And the way you're always training, making yourself lose sleep over it and the way that you give up your food for me and you did all of that for us—"

Then, he said something stupid. "No, I didn't."

Ari took a moment to let the words sink in. "What do you mean?" she asked.

He had to think about it for a moment, and as he tried to justify it in his mind, he realized he shouldn't have said anything at all, ever. But there was no room for him to take it back, as Ari was staring at him and looked fit to ask him again if he tried to leave it unanswered. So when he spoke, he chose his words as carefully as honest words could be chosen. "It sounds awful to say it out loud," he began uncomfortably. Ari's eyes were wide, the whites glistening with moisture around the glowing sapphire. "Because you think it sounds nice that I did everything for a family. It sounds nice that I wanted to protect you all because Melisande was pregnant and because I felt bad for the child who would come to life all the way down here. But it isn't as nice as you think. It isn't selfless at all, because yes, I wanted for us all to be safe and to be left alone. I wanted to be feared enough to keep you out of harm's way, but it was just that: you were the motivation behind all those steps and all of the drive that I ever had for it. You were the reason, and I have tried feeling guilty about it, but I cannot. That's all."

It was very hard to see her expression with any kind of detail, but Bane knew it couldn't have been good. There was no reason to have ever told her that, and although he hadn't wanted her to know, it hadn't really been a secret either. Even still, he was concerned about her reaction. He could have said it in a better way, even. Made it sound better than the truth.

Evidently, Ari thought it sounded good enough, for although she hesitated, she brought a hand up to his face, resting the baby's legs in her lap. "Maybe I am sad because you aren't closer," she said, her palm encompassing the side of his face. "But I think we both know that every happy moment I feel is because of you, too."

He realized he had been holding his breath when he exhaled. Whatever had been squeezing his organs relinquished its hold, and he felt some weight lifted away from him. The inclination to answer was strong, but he found himself only able to say, "I know," and he felt bad about that, too. But it didn't matter what he said anyway, because Ari was still holding his face in her hand just as gently as she held Melisande's baby.

Ari said nothing else, but he didn't mind the silence. In fact, it comforted his nerves as they bounded all around inside of him. Something within him sensed that they were sharing a moment with a kind of seriousness they had never indulged in before. "Melisande thinks you are an angel," she said.

"She was tired," he answered platonically. Ari shrugged.

"Maybe she's right," she said. And without any warning, she leaned forward and touched her lips to his left cheek. Almost immediately, his mind was identifying the sensation and attributing meaning to it. The mere idea that her mouth was touching him _anywhere _at all made his skin tingle and prickle as flames licking the sticks that fuel them. He harkened back to a time some years ago, when his mother had still loved him. He remembered that she would kiss his forehead and his hands and even his knees when he scraped them while playing outside. But the touch of Ari's mouth was nothing like his mothers: hers was exciting and tantalizing and somehow dangerous. Dangerous in that he could feel his body respond to it almost instantly.

She was looking him in the face, smiling kindly before looking back down at the baby. But what had lasted for a split second for Ari was lingering in his mind and on the skin of his neck. He was concerned with the way something so simple and freely given had purely captivated him. He couldn't think why something so little had excited him so much. The action had stirred in him the desire to feel it again, and to have more than just a touch of his face. That was what disturbed him. What if he didn't want Ari because they got along and because he liked her? What if he only wanted her because she was the accessible woman whom he felt entitled to? What if he was just like the rest of the men in The Pit, desperate for the taste of her and hungry for more?

"Are you all right?" For the first time, her voice seemed unwelcome.

"I'm sorry," he said hastily, applying a significant amount of pressure to the back of his neck with his hand.

"Sorry for what?"

_For thinking like our enemies_, he wanted to say. But of course, it would have been a bad idea. She would have asked what that meant, and he would have to explain it to her, and then she would've been upset. And he certainly didn't want to delve into the fact that all of the sexual feelings he had ever experienced had been about _her_, especially considering they had both been abused in such a similar way. She probably thought about sex and associated it only with fear and hatred and wrongly executed power. She had experienced firsthand the power that people had over others, and that was the power of men alone. Their situation was different because at least Bane was a man and he was not in nearly as much danger as she was, especially now that he was older and stronger. And he felt guilty that she had to live in fear for the rest of her life, and that she could trust only two men with her own gender, but Bane could have his own identity and could train to protect himself. It wasn't fair.

"I don't know," he said dumbly.

Ari nodded and began to move further away from him, presumably into a more comfortable position. His head hung, Bane watched her back away from him until he realized with tremendous speed that he did not want her to go. Once it solidified in his mind, his arm shot out in front of him and grabbed her by the shoulder. He hadn't yet prepared the words or even figured out what he wanted for her to do instead of going to sleep. When he opened his mouth to speak, he found that what he wanted came naturally: "Come here."

It wasn't much, but she seemed to understand after a moment. She obliged soon after and situated herself in front of him, leaning her back against his chest. The feeling of her body against him was enticing, but he squelched the thoughts and wound his arms around her middle. He rested his chin on her shoulder and stared down at the child in her arms and thought, _She will never know what light is._

"You've never held me before," she said, her voice very low. "Whenever I touch you—even just your arm—I can feel you freeze up. Sometimes I think you don't like touching me at all."

"I do like it," he said, already afraid of where he was going with the statement. "That's why I don't do it." He buried his face in her neck and noted the way that she tilted her head to accommodate him.

"Good to know," she said. "Good night."

"Good night."

Bane remained where he was for the entire duration of the night until the sun rose; he hardly slept at all, but the sound of Ari's calm breaths and the baby's lack of stirring put him at ease. They huddled all together, and his mind replayed the short fight with Ish before Melisande gave birth. He sat in her cell with the three women in The Pit and felt certain that he could protect them now. He would not stop training—in fact, he would train even harder now that the baby was born. But he had wanted to keep them safe by the time the baby arrived, and he felt sure that at the very least, he could keep them out of scrutiny.

And that was what he wanted. Whether for Ari or himself or the good of them all, he knew that was what he wanted.

**A/N: **I've had an awfully busy week, three projects cropped up out of nowhere, I saw a concert, and spent a couple of days mid-week outside the house. Not to mention my new job is running me into the ground, BUT! I wanted to make sure I got this out to you guys before midweek. Not as long as I'd like it to be, but I figured this was a pretty serious moment that needed to be spaced out from the continuation. Hopefully it still lived up to expectations and will continue to. Please go ahead and shoot me some reviews and let me know how you feel about it! I appreciate you guys so much, you really encourage me to keep up with this, and I'm really enjoying this story myself. I promise to update again ASAP!


	8. 7 Sab'a

**7. Sab'a**

The next day, The Pit rumbled with curious murmurs and craning heads when morning came. Bane stirred to the frustrated cries of the newborn and the feeling of Ari's bristly hair on his shoulder. She had shifted away from him during the night, carefully depositing the baby into his lap as he reclined. He woke with the infant bundled in his arms, squirming and wanting for something. Food, he supposed. He wondered if Melisande ought to have fed it by now…

"Melisande is waking up…" He felt Ari's breaths on his neck as she shifted and sat up straight. "Here, I will take the child now…" The doctor, who must have awakened some time before them, was standing with a hunch near Melisande's cot, tugging on his fingers. Deep, swollen shadows under his eyes indicated his fatigue, but the moment Ari got to her feet, he beckoned for her to bring the baby.

"I will have her sit up, if I can," the doctor said as he awkwardly took the child from Ari's arms. She seemed to give up the infant unwillingly, as though she either did not trust the man to whom she handed it over, or she wanted to hold it for longer. Bane supposed it was some combination of the two. "You two will go back to your cells now," the doctor said harshly, nodding to the gate that had been left ajar throughout the night. "They should still be open."

Ari made to speak, but hardly a sound had escaped her lips before she retreated and looked back in Bane's direction. Her forehead wrinkled and mouth agape, she looked as though she were ready to cry. But she swallowed and said to him, "We'll be going then. Bane." She was conscious of the eyes that observed her around the prison; Bane noted the way she held herself like a boy, legs apart and chin held up. Her motions were large and sloppy, whereas he had found Melisande's to be graceful and small. There was nothing fair about it—for either of them. Melisande endured the sexual desires of the other men while Ari was forced to behave like one in order to avoid it. He wondered which one of them suffered more.

"Bane."

"Coming."

Wind swept between their movements as they walked side by side. She kept very close to him, their arms frequently brushing one another's. She made small talk until they reached their cells and were standing just outside them. He answered her shortly, feeling particularly consumed by the formation of her lips as she spoke.

From behind them, Melisande was cooing gently. Bane and Ari turned in unison to see that she had sat upright, and although she looked in great discomfort, her face was serene as her child was brought to her arms for the first time. It was as though she had never seen anything quite as beautiful. Bane wondered if her feelings would change when she found had she have given birth to yet another female for The Pit to mentally devour.

But although Melisande was experiencing joy, the rest of the prison was clouded with dim and morose air. A sense of difference wafted through and the voices that had been rumbling in the distance all along were gaining volume. There were specific sounds approaching and the footsteps that were overlapping outrageously shuffled closer to them. Almost unnoticeably, Ari moved closer to Bane, and if he had not been so preoccupied with whatever was going on ahead of them, he would have thanked her.

The quickly moving caretakers and older, unlocked prisoners began to come into view. Only a couple of them took note of Bane and Ari standing freely, and even those who did found whatever they were seeking a more interesting pursuit.

When they stopped moving, Ari was the first to discover the significance of their whereabouts: "They are by Ish's cell, I think."

At the words, Bane locked his jaw. The birth the previous night had almost completely erased his fight with Ish from his mind. But now it all came spiraling back with immense detail and in mere seconds, he was overtaken by the vivid memories. He could even detail the very specific sound of Ish's head knocking into the bars of a cell, picture the way it bounced back on his neck, and recall perfectly the solitary look of shock on his face after the fact. And although his body held physical recollections of the fight, he could not remember where the other blows had taken place on either his or Ish's part. He could only remember the clanging _thump _of the man's skull and the feeling of his neck on Bane's forearm.

One of the caretakers finally gave them more than a moment's glare and found issue with their whereabouts. The man doubled back and pointed a finger at them. Bane felt Ari jump. "Get back in there," the man growled, and for whatever reason, Bane felt the nagging urge to disobey, but Ari quickly scuttled away from him, closing the door of her cell behind her. At that point, he didn't see the point. The caretaker continued to watch him until he had slunk back into his cell and locked himself in. Just as soon as he had stopped to order them back in, the caretaker bustled off with the small crowd that had formed around Ish's cell.

Someone opened the gate at last, but no one moved. Bane was locked on the scene, although he was having trouble focusing entirely. The sounds were all molding together and every one of his senses worked overtime to differentiate from Melisande's cooing to the baby and the caretakers' muttering. He was afraid to look at Ari and he didn't know why, but he did know that something was wrong.

Some of the caretakers went inside one by one, and the murmuring died away entirely. Bane had to remind himself to blink when his eyes began to sting. It wasn't until he heard a very specific, clear-cut word thrown into the air that the reality was confirmed: "Dead. Blood in his hair, back there."

Dead. Ish was dead, and he would _not_, under any circumstances, look at Ari.

Bane didn't know whether he wanted to believe it or not. He could not force his mind to accept it either way, it seemed. He was afraid that someone had misspoken, or that Ari had been wrong about what cell the crowd had gone to. Perhaps, "dead," didn't mean anything more than some code they had designated that he couldn't have known the answer to. But if it were true—if Ish were dead—then it was almost impossible to argue that Bane had not been the cause.

The head injury. The sound of it, the sight of it, the whole notion…

Time raced past with suddenness and soon enough, there was no denying it. There was a makeshift stretcher and people were lifting a man onto it and people were saying, "He died overnight," and, "Who saw him back to his cell after the fires?" And unmistakably—whether he was willing to look back at them or not—people were looking over at Bane because they had to. They had to wonder if he had done it. He found a peculiar feeling stirring within him as he received glare after glare and his thoughts shut off completely. He had not a clue how he was meant to feel.

When he finally saw Ish's limp form lying slack against the stretcher on which he was carried, Bane's heart missed a beat. He stared stonily at the scene and felt his face contorting with some strange emotion. He knew, and Ari _had _to know that Ish had died because of the head injury, and he wanted to care about that—to feel responsible or disgusting or hideous—but it didn't bother him. Of course it should have. It surely bothered Ari, but he adamantly refused to look in her direction. Bane allowed his eyes to lock on Ish, dead by Bane's own hand, and for a split second, the corners of his mouth turned upwards in somewhat of a twitch. The muscles protested the smile, as did his conscience and awareness of Ari's whereabouts, but for whatever reason, he could not stop it. For whatever reason, he wanted to _smile _because Ish was dead and Ish thought that Bane was a bitch and Ish was ignorant and Ish bothered Melisande and _Ish was dead because Bane killed him_.

The idea reverberated throughout his thoughts, and he managed at last to turn off the bizarre happiness he felt in his core. When his expression went fully stagnant again, his eyes slid in Ari's direction, checking to see if she had noticed.

She had. Her eyes were wide and her brow furrowed in what appeared to be some cocktail of anger and disbelief. Her lips were pursed and he had never seen her look at him so darkly. Not that he could blame her.

Melisande did not allow the death in The Pit to faze her, and with good reason. It was as though Ish's dying retracted all attention from the birth of her child. The doctor remained in the room with her, holding the baby until she could sit up without too much pain. She had given little attention to the news of Ish, instead audibly demanding food and water. "You must leave," she was prodding the doctor. There was discomfort in her voice. "Tell them to give me the rations now. I will nurse the child."

Bane looked over the scene, still harboring conflicting emotions. The sense of deadness within him was nothing new, but the feeling seemed engorged in light of the recent situation. He could not pretend he didn't fear the outcomes and repercussions that may have awaited him if people put two and two together. Head trauma, they knew that much, and they even knew that Bane and Ish had gotten in another fight the night that he died. Of course, in his favor, none of the caretakers had actually _seen _Bane throw Ish's head into the hard metal, and there was a chance things wouldn't add up. He didn't mind the suspicion—he could already feel the other prisoners glaring at him, wondering if it had been him, if he had _meant _to, and what he was willing to do to the rest of them in any given situation. It was as though the lot of them were thinking aloud, their garbled thoughts swimming through his head with painful speed. What bothered him was that he wasn't sure how he felt, and he knew he should have been sure. At least half of him was scared, but the other half reconciled, arguing that it didn't matter if he had killed Ish, because he was already in the worst prison on earth for something that couldn't have been his fault, so it almost made sense that he do something that actually merited imprisonment. He _should _have killed Ish.

But then there came the terrified part of himself, saying, _You didn't even mean to kill him. You thought about it but that wasn't what you meant to do. Why would you want to kill someone by accident? _And as he thought it, he could feel his limbs trembling again, and his forehead was beading with sweat while he felt colder than he ever had in The Pit. _Maybe it wasn't even you at all_, the voice in his head went on. _Maybe he was sick and you never knew…_

His throat contorted and he dry heaved several times, and on the last, particularly nauseating heave, he fell forward onto his knees and only just managed to keep himself from falling face-first into the rock. He didn't dare look up, although Melisande's voice was permeating his cell: "You have no business here anymore, I wish to be alone with the child." Bane could not hear the doctor's answered; he wasn't sure he cared to.

He felt eyes boring into his figure, watching him from all angles whether it was just one pair or several fixated on him. But he refused to acknowledge them because he knew whether it was the man in the cell next to his or Ari, no one was going to look away. He stared at the ground, seeing nothing, and soon enough, he curled up and forced himself into the worst sleep he had ever had.

It was by some invisible force of mercy that he managed to stay in forced slumber all the way up to the start of the fires. Bane woke to the sound of Hassan unlocking the other inmates' gates. He wondered if he was going to be let out that night at all, but his tired brain didn't seem interested in working too hard at the time. Instead, Bane reached for the rations that had been left in his cell while he had been sleeping. The already stale rice had turned into a sticky brick and the beans to the side of the bowl hardly moved when he tilted it to the side. He yawned briefly before plunging his fingers into the food mechanically and feeding himself for the first time in over twenty-four hours. He could hardly taste it, but it felt good anyway.

When he had finished eating about two thirds, Bane worked his brain to remember whether today was one of the days Ari missed a meal or not. He looked up from the bowl and squinted in the dim fire lighting to see into her cell. He was still hungry, but he would have given it to her. However, it didn't seem to matter what he was willing to do, because she was not looking in his direction—or at anything, really. She was not right by the front of her cell as she usually was, but leaning up against the side, her legs outstretched and hands planted messily in her lap. Her head was tilted towards the back and he could not tell whether she was sleeping or not.

He set his bowl of food down and started to feel guilty. The longer he looked at her, the worse he felt. He couldn't very well deny that she was attributing Ish's death to him, and then she had seen his reaction—some strange form of happiness—and she had been disappointed in him one way or another. Saying sorry didn't seem the best option, because it would have meant that he was admitting to something, and whatever he admitted to would have been bad.

Hassan was finally at his cell. Bane straightened up at attention despite his fatigue and watched the caretaker intently. He had nearly forgotten the possibility of some great punishment during the hours he had slept. After the fight—right afterwards, when Bane was watching Ish hold his head in his hands—he had thought that he'd endure some length of confinement as punishment. He would no longer be let out at night, and his rations would be cut. That was what he had envisioned then. But that was all before The Pit had found Ish dead, and Bane had no idea what the caretakers had decided. Had they all gotten together and speculated as to whether Bane had killed Ish or not? Did they sit around and flesh out the details, coming to the conclusion that one way or another, he had been the cause of the man's death?

Bane tried to shut off his thoughts, but the longer Hassan stood in front of his cell in silence, the longer he wanted to create answers for himself. Mercifully, the caretaker acted at last, and to Bane's surprise, he inserted the key and pulled the gate open, offering him the usual bit of water. Bane was almost too stunned to move. He ogled at the man, wide-eyed and in shock, wishing he could find the words to ask why he was not being punished.

Hassan seemed to read his expression. With a rather cold look, he said, "We have not yet decided. Some say you murdered the man last night, but there were witnesses who saw him living after you were pulled away from his neck. You will be let out tonight, but all of us will be speaking again, rest assured." And although it had been vague, Hassan walked away leaving Bane feeling numb from the neck down at the idea that it was all still going on. He would have to be consumed with the death until the caretakers came to a decision and allowed it to rest. He hoped that he would know by tomorrow; he was preparing for the worst. What if he stopped getting meals every day? He wouldn't be able to help Ari anymore, and he couldn't very well defend her or Melisande, although he was significantly less concerned with her now that she had had the child. How could he intimidate _anyone _under lock and key?

In another instant, Bane was overcome with some lack of rationale. His head was flooded with the knowledge that he was their subject of interest, that although the caretakers were making the decision, the other inmates were thinking about him and talking about him and speculating all the while. The internal conflict still plagued him, and although it was exhilarating that there were people around who thought he ought to be feared, he could not shake the fact that he would not be able to sit outside of Ari's cell at night and they would never spar again, even if Hassan were willing to let her out.

So, feeling somewhat panicky now, Bane scrambled to his feet, food in hand. He took heavy, large strides towards Ari's cell and when he was able, he nearly threw himself against them, and the bars rattled very slightly. If she had been asleep, the sound had startled her awake. She took a sharp intake of air and it seemed to be caught in her throat as she flung her arms out in front of her, as if to catch herself from a fall. In the next second, she was on her feet defensively, her chest rising and falling with the weight of an anchor. When she saw that it was him, she finally took the time to breathe deeply, and she allowed her eyes to fall shut for a moment. "What was that about?" she said crudely. "What are you doing?" She looked rather disgusted with him.

"Ask Hassan to let you out tonight."

This evidently took Ari by surprise. Even he was not sure when he had decided he was going to tell her that—why he couldn't have just asked if she wanted to instead. But his inhibitions failed him; he was drunk on worries and it very suddenly did not matter how he said anything that was on his mind. For all he knew, it was his last night of measly freedom, and if that were the case, he was not going to waste it. And he felt secure enough to tell this to Ari, who soaked it in like a sponge. Her face was still expressing surprise—eyebrows raised and mouth agape. But other than that, she did not disagree with a word he said. Bane could not help but sense her disheartening when he brought up Ish's death. He hadn't decided whether he was going to talk to her about it or not. Even if he did, he wasn't sure he wanted to tell her the truth.

"I don't think it's a good time to push the luck," she said, lowering her voice. "You were in a fight, Melisande's just had her baby, we were out all last night with her, and now…well, you know." She didn't want to talk about Ish at all.

"Hassan would do it," Bane pressed her. His body was working overtime, and he spoke quickly and breathed as though he had just been training. "If you ask him when he comes around to lock up the cells again—"

"I know, Bane, I just don't think…" She sighed and rubbed her hands over her face. "They're watching you now. They aren't idiots, they would know what was going on."

"Well, I don't care."

"He won't say yes, and I'm not going to ask him. It's a bad time."

"You said you didn't like it when I felt far away," he said, frustrated with her for the first time in a long while. "You told me that this matters to you, and you must know what's going to happen to me—whatever they decide, whatever the truth is for them. I think this is important, and I don't know when the next time will be. It's possible that I get locked in for a long time. Forever, perhaps. Why should it matter if tonight is a bad time? Perhaps it will be the only time."

The words had a positive effect on Ari. Her face softened and she stopped giving him the type of look that suggested he was out of his mind. Apparently, the sentiments were not enough. "I understand that," she replied calmly, "but I don't think there's anything to be done about it."

Bane locked eyes with her through the bars of her cell, still resting his arms against them. His head swirled with hoards of ideas as he leaned there, wading in her icy eyes. He was thinking of a way to do it without her even knowing it was going to happen. A way that did not require her to ask for Hassan to do a favor for her during inconvenient circumstances. At the same time, he was still considering the caretakers' debate about him. He assumed that when Hassan when back over with the others, they would discuss it again, and who knew how many times throughout the day several of them had been talking about him. He began to entertain the notion of finding some way to eavesdrop, whether he had to do it right then or wait until after the fires. But if he could manage it, he thought that perhaps, at the same time, he could look for something near their living quarters that might have opened the lock of Ari's cell when The Pit was immersed in darkness. The longer he thought about it, the more it all fleshed out: if he could find a pick of some sort, perhaps the long end of a spoon or knife or even a sharp, finely shaped rock that was lying around. Perhaps he could have even gotten a set of keys that they had left lying within his reach.

"If you will not ask," he said at last, "then I will find a way on my own. And here are your rations." At that, he pushed off her the cage just as Hassan was exiting the hallway.

Immediately, Bane followed after the caretaker. He went to the end of the hall and watched Hassan's pathway back to the other caretakers as they all finished passing out water and unlocking those who were allowed out. They met up near a set of stairs, where they sat around their own small fire. It was unusual for them to stick together that way during the fires. They usually separated and walked around, or mingled with certain prisoners. But of course, they had to all get together that night, as Bane was sure they had already done earlier.

He did his best to remain inconspicuous. He sat near a fire that was not very near to theirs and strained to push out any conversations that were not what he wanted to hear. He was distracted briefly, however, by the fact that the other prisoners that sat at his fire had fallen completely silent when he had sat down with them. Although he was conscious of them, instead of paying them any mind, he looked around him casually at anything and everything he could force his attention on.

Eavesdropping was no easy task. Bane was able to catch only a few words that might have had anything to do with him. The caretakers were speaking in very low voices, which was perfectly understandable, especially considering the fact that he was sitting so near to them. He scanned around briefly for a place that might have been more ideal, perhaps somewhere closer, but where they could not see him.

But as he searched, he laid eyes on a series of shelves by the caretakers' living quarters. There was one low-lying one in particular atop which he glimpsed what appeared to be a knife. It was thin with a makeshift handle that looked to have been repaired several times. The blade appeared very dull. It sat beside several other objects of various sizes and shapes. But the one he first saw was merely a sliver, and as he blatantly squinted at it, he could envision it sliding perfectly in with the locks of the cells.

He climbed to his feet and made his way casually back to his cell. On the way, he pocketed several rocks at his feet, planning to shave one of them into shape with the others as backup. He had plenty of time to kill, and at least now he had some kind of a plan. He may not have heard a word of his fate, but somewhere along the lines, getting Ari out of her cell that night had started to matter more in his mind.

He sat in his cell numbly, rubbing rocks together between his legs while he waited, replaying his future actions as he went. As soon as the fires were extinguished, he would slip out of his cell again and hide in a corner as he had done before when he had sneaked out with Ari. When things were settled down, and when he could no longer see his own hands in front of him without focusing, he would go and see if he could still get to the knife—if it was still there, unguarded. If it were not reachable, then he would try with the rock he had carved into a long, slender arrowhead. The locks were old and rather simple. Simple enough to break through. Because security was no problem in The Pit. So a prisoner broke out. Where would he go after that?

As time passed, he became impatient, and resolved to do some pushups while he waited. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Ari watching him, and was almost certain that she was wondering if he hadn't given up on trying to get her out that night. He did not give her any clues or indication that their conversation had even happened. He simply continued to train until he could hear the stamping of feet and water being poured on the fires that still raged on. At this point, he went to his cot and bundled up the cloth atop it untidily.

He pricked his finger against the tip of the rock as the hallway was gradually drenched in the shadows. When he thought the lighting had gone out enough, he slunk out of the cell again and pushed himself into the same narrow corner as before and waited. He allowed his mind to stray to other things, trying desperately to keep his thoughts away from Ish and whatever decision they were going to make about him. It was no easy task, but he hated the vulnerability he felt about it. It should have been the opposite. He had killed a man, hadn't he? As far as he knew, there was slim chance of Ish coincidentally dying from some _other _head injury the night of their fight. Causing Ish's death should have made him feel strong and dangerous, but instead, the part of Bane that feared the action more than took pride in it seemed to have won out. He was quite sure it had a great deal to do with Ari's supposed feelings about the matter.

Bane jumped slightly when he heard gates closing around him. Soon enough, the whole hallway was closed again, and Bane knew he had gone unnoticed. Just a little bit longer, and he could go and get the knife… He would keep it after the fact, he supposed. It would have been a good thing to have, especially if he were going to be locked away permanently.

When he considered the coast clear, he swept out from the corner and headed into the center of the prison slowly, his eyes adjusting to the dark smog. It must have been a full moon; a bluish white glow illuminated the ground only just, and he carefully avoided stepping into any areas that might have shed light on him.

He reached the shelves, feeling around in front of them to find the correct one. He slid his hands along the edge gingerly, and when he felt the padded, raggedy handle of it, he picked it up and felt the sides of it. He confirmed that it was the right one and, looking over his shoulder as he left, he made his way back to the hallway, his steps renewed.

A sliver of doubt caught him in the stomach as he approached Ari's cell. He thought perhaps that he might startle her, and that she might make noise if she was caught off guard in the night. There was the very plausible possibility that neither of the tools he had gotten for it would work on the lock at all, and then what? He would be stuck outside of his cell all night on his own, for no reason, and he might never have gotten another opportunity to try again or even look for something that might do the trick.

But he was over thinking it. When he came to Ari's cell, she was on her feet, right at the bars, and the moonlight just barely caught the glow of her eyes as they fixated on him. She looked incredibly curious. Bane nodded to her and began to search for the lock. When he found it, he took his time inserting the head of the knife, praying for success. He wiggled it around, up and down, in any direction he could move it.

There was a tiny clicking sound and his heart jumped into his throat. He felt the gate give way in his hands, swing back on its hinges and suddenly, he felt an immense sense of hope. The future possibilities sped through his mind, the realization that it didn't _matter _what the caretakers decided about him and Ish, because even if he was never allowed out—even if he lost food—he had a way out at all times, and a way to Ari. Not to mention, he had defense, in case he had gained enemies with the loss of Ish.

His thoughts became irrelevant when Ari stepped out into the hallway with him. Without hesitation, she touched the handle of the knife that was in his hand. "Where did you get this?" she asked intently. "_How _did you get it?" He thought at first that she was upset that he'd done it, but then she said, "Why didn't you get it sooner?"

"Keep your voice down," he told her nonchalantly, hiding his pride. He beckoned for her to follow him, and he led them over to the stairs, taking them down several levels. He wasn't sure how long they would stay out. He thought of the doctor and Melisande's baby stirring in the night, and the possibility that people would be out to go and check on her. They would not be out all night, that was for sure.

"We're not sparring, are we?" Ari asked, stopping on a short landing that Bane had already bypassed. He looked up at her, just barely able to detect her whereabouts in the night. "I didn't wrap my fists, and as you know, I'm prone to hitting."

"No," he said, leaning against the wall and determining they had gone down far enough from the cells above.

She nodded and leaned beside him, igniting her usual small talk as though nothing unusual was taking place. He knew that being out made her happy, though, and although she didn't say or show it, the knowledge was enough for him.

"There are so many possibilities now, you see," she said to him at one point regarding the lock picking. "Now you and I can do this whenever we want, without getting caught, as long as we're sensible. It feels freeing, wouldn't you—"

She stopped mid-sentence as a small green light flashed in front of them. Bane heard her utter a small, "Oh," and the next time the light appeared, she was staring down at her hand. A small, black bug was resting on her finger, its tail end lighting up every few seconds. "My…" she cooed in awe. "What a marvelous little creature." The little insect sat idly on the back of her hand, and she held it up to her face curiously. "I have never seen something glow before," she said, enthralled with the tiny creature. Its end lit up greenish-yellow again, and although its light was small, it looked big in the dark. "What a beautiful little thing. So complex and able. What it must be like to fly out of here in the night, lighting your own way…"

Bane allowed her the time to let it fascinate her in silence. All the while, he gazed at her face each time the bug lit it up just slightly with its flashing light. It made her eyes look like the sea.

"Did you do it?"

Her pale lips fluttered in the tiny glow. "Do what?" he said, still mesmerized by her.

"Did you kill him, Bane?" Ari clarified, her eyes swimming with sadness. "Ish?"

They were facing one another now, and for a brief moment, he wished that they weren't. He knew the question was bound to come up, whether from her or someone else who craved an answer, but it had taken him aback nonetheless. He didn't feel he was ready to answer it. It was not a simple yes or no; there were other factors and possibilities, things he would have to explain and clarify and no matter what, if it were not a no, Ari would be unhappy with it.

He did not want to lie to her, on the other hand. He couldn't remember a time when he had ever done so, and he didn't want to start now over something so serious. But her docile, questioning face peered up at him in the night and he could not bear the idea of disappointing her. He could feel himself inching towards her little by little, tasting the air that she breathed and sharing it. He didn't want to stop because he felt that he had brought her some eternal happiness by having the knife, by having the ability to take her to freedom whenever she wanted, and he could not disappoint her. He felt good about that: strong and confident, and he was not ready to lose it so quickly. So he took a deep breath, and shook his head very slowly. "No," he said.

Ari's expression relaxed only slightly, and he had the feeling she did not quite trust his answer. Even still, he did not retract it. Instead he stood there, his face inches from hers, watching the little glowing bug bring her into existence. "Okay," she said in less than a whisper. Every syllable sounded through her mouth clearly and definitively, and then she was moving forward, too, and he could see her eyes closing in front of him and the little bug flew away from them…

Emotions of every kind flooded his chest when he could feel her lower lip between his own, just barely, delicately touching. His mind was racing, yet at the same time, he had lost all sense of thought and consideration. The only thing that remained was the gentle pressure of her mouth on his and the fleeting thought that only a few months ago, he thought he would never kiss a woman—thought that the opportunity would never arise. But then she had appeared like smoke, captivating him every minute of her time, and standing there in that moment, kissing him even though it might have scared her. He was still as stone, following the patterns she made only minutely, afraid to startle her and end the occurrence. She trusted him not to do anything more than that, and he promised her internally that no matter how much he thought about it, he would not touch her unless she asked.

But it was hard. Especially when she just barely—maybe even accidentally—touched the tip of her tongue to his lip. His body went rigid and he tried to think of something to stop the excitement of it so that he wouldn't react—so that there was no chance of her feeling him against her pelvis. But he couldn't stop it from happening, but at the same time, she didn't seem to notice, or even care. It didn't much change the fact that a very dominant part of him was beyond tempted to grab her by the waist and push her back against the stone wall, to kiss her hard and to feel her chest against his and their entire bodies molding together. He tried not to think of doing that especially, because it only made the excitement worse.

When she released him, he felt as though he were coming up from having been under water for much too long. He panted momentarily before deciding that he sounded horribly animalistic and that he didn't want her to hear it. He wondered if she had thought anything near the things that he did; was there any way she had kissed him and envisioned more? He didn't think so. She had been taken advantage of and blamed for it, as had he. He was a man and she was delicate and pretty and enjoyable and warm and so she made him forget, but he was just like the other men, and how could Ari forget the others when he craved her so desperately?

He leaned into her hand when she cupped his cheek. He lowered his head, hoping to keep her from feeling his hungry breaths on her wrist. Her touch was comforting, bringing him out of his concerns and the potency of his thoughts. She said nothing about their exchange, but moved back into speech as though their embrace had affected her, too. "…Shall we go back now?" she offered. It seemed too soon, but he had never had a better thing happen, had not felt that happy in years, and what more could he ask for?

Bane trailed up the stairs behind her at a short distance. Rather frequently, she reached back as if to discover his whereabouts and teased her fingers around his shortly. When they were at the top, she did not turn around, instead treading with excessive care to remain quiet. She slowed down slightly when she was outside of her cell, almost inviting him to touch her one last time before she went inside, but he took too long to act, and in another moment, she had gone in and pulled the gate closed behind her. She looked at him, saying a thousand words that he could not interpret, but it was enough that she was looking.

He reached through the bars and found her hand. Giving it a squeeze, he whispered, "Good night."

But as he watched her climb into her cot, he stood restlessly where he was. He did not want to go to bed yet. His mind was too awake now. He had slept the day away, and now he had far too much to think about to fall asleep. So, when he heard a small disturbance nearby, he made his way to Melisande's cell, only to find her sitting in the corner, nursing the newborn.

Bane knelt down in front of her, and she caught sight of him almost immediately. She smiled subtly and said, "Out for a walk?"

"Yes," he answered simply.

Melisande nodded and shifted the child. He did his best not to look, though the skin of her swollen breasts was evident to him. She had pulled down her robes on the one side and seemed legitimately unconcerned as to his seeing her body. "Alone?" she questioned, raising her eyebrows and looking away.

"Uh…yes." Bane trusted Melisande for the most part, but seeing as she had being acting strange after the birth, he did not want to run the risk of getting Ari in trouble.

"How nice." It was unclear as to whether or not she believed him.

Bane changed the subject, still trying to recover from and shake the feelings Ari had given him away. "What is the child's name?" he asked her politely.

Melisande scoffed. "Does she need one?" she said bitterly. "It will never be her identity here. It will never matter." He knew what she was referring to. If she gave the child a female name, it would have gone through life answering to a false identity anyway. It was evident—and he agreed with the decision—that Melisande was going to hide the baby's gender if at all possible. But for whatever reason, it mattered to Bane that the unfortunate child had a name. Unlucky as it was, at the very least, it deserved a name, didn't it?

"You ought to name her," he urged. "If only for yourself." He watched the way she gazed at the child, and knew that although she must have resented having a female baby, the child already meant the world to her. It made perfect sense as well. It was a connection to the upper world, a memory of the baby's father—perhaps a memory she wanted to keep.

"How good of you to think it necessary," she said under her breath. She looked over at him warmly. "Then if she must have a name, I will call her Talia." She reached out, cradling the baby in her other arm and touched his jaw. Her fingertips strayed to his mouth, where he could still feel the imprint of Ari's lips and saliva lingering. "Do you like it?"

"Hm?"

"The name. Talia."

He looked down at the child with its blotchy red face and wispy brown hair. Little Talia relaxed in her mother's arms calmly, and for whatever reason, the name seemed entirely fitting for the baby. "Yes," he said honestly. "A strong name for a brave child."

Melisande took her hand away and seemed contented. Bane got to his feet as she began to hum a lullaby. He lingered for a moment, then stepped away, leaving the mother and child in peace.

**A/N: **I cannot believe how fast this chapter went—especially considering I was really debating about what I was going to put in this chapter and what should be left for later. I wasn't sure about Ish because I sort of liked his presence as Bane's first real enemy, and the lingering threat of that existing. However, I think Bane's first hands-on experience with death (i.e. him being the cause of death in one way or another) had to be pretty serious, and pretty soon. So while I'm sure this came as a surprise to many of you, I hope you see where I was coming from and why I saw fit to do things this way. So, especially with this chapter, your thoughts are important, so I'd love to hear how you feel about it. This will be a turning point, I hope, and from here on out, the 'M' rating should come more into play (sorry it's taken so long!)

I wanted to take a minute to thank some faithful reviewers thus far: soundnebula, **Zazzy The Cat****, ****ktfoo****, ****ilovehappyendings****, ****Bane's Muse****, ****Straight Edge Queen****, ****xLevitate****, ****megandenisefox****, ****Gaara-frenzy****, ****bookluvr888****, ****Darkinyron****, ****C'estMoiLiz****, ****Alimakk****, ****kamiccolo's rose****, ****CaraLove****, ****nekochan354****, ****CeruleanOctopus, ****electrogirl88****, ****ZabuzasGirl****, ****ElektraMackenzie****, ****sammyxxjames****, ****kairi senpai, Jess, alianne, ****, ****xxyangxx2006, ****Aur0ra****,** and any unnamed guests. Your feedback, even just little "update soon"s or letting me know that you are looking forward to the next, is also so helpful to me and it doesn't go unappreciated. You guys speed up the writing process by A LOT. To the rest of you readers, followers, and favoriters, please don't hesitate to send me a few words at the end of the chapter. Trust me, it REALLY helps. Again, thank you guys! You're wonderful :3


	9. 8 Thamaniya

Warning: Scenes of violence and some sexuality.

**8. Thamaniya**

_The air was thick and warm around him. Cool grass padded the ground beneath him, and he could hardly see in the white light of the sun beating down on them. He was lying down, his arms sprawled out above his head in the deepest relaxation he had ever felt. He closed his eyes, reveling in the things that he felt and forgetting the things that he could see. _

_She sat on top of him, leaning over him. She nuzzled her face into the crook of his neck, kissing him at every inch of skin she could find. Her mouth was warm and gentle and wet. It was just as soothing as it was exciting. He was breathing hard and fast; he knew that she could sense the effect she had on him, but he let her keep going patiently. His back arched and he pushed up into her through their clothing. She tensed and hummed into his ear. "Don't move," she whispered, pushing away from him._

"_Okay," he said dumbly. She sat upright and lifted herself away from him, standing steadily on the grass. He spent a fleeting moment wishing she hadn't gone, until she was undressing right in the open air, unraveling the cloth down to her ankles. No one was around and it didn't matter that she was naked because they were not in The Pit and people could not stare in at them from all angles. _

_He couldn't help but stare at her. The light of the sun hurt his eyes—was almost blinding—but he didn't want to look away from her body. She was clean, and it was hard to take all of her in at once. She was shaped like a tiny hourglass, her hipbones far apart and her ribcage hiding under her breasts. She lowered herself back to him and gave him more of her weight. And then she kissed him on the lips, hard, like he had imagined, and he couldn't keep himself from touching her. He brought his hands to her bare back, traced his palms over the span of naked skin. "You're perfect," he said into her face. She hardly gave him the break to say it. She was moving so fast, her body undulating against him like the waves of the ocean. _

"_Do you love me?" she asked him._

_He didn't even hesitate. "Yes."_

Bane awoke with a gasp as he felt himself being lifted from the ground by the collar of his robes. He fumbled blindly at his neck to grasp the hands that were clutching his clothing. When he was on his feet, his legs wobbled horribly under him—he had hardly even woken up and now there he was, being dragged around by a particularly bulky caretaker. The man's face was inches from his; they were near enough to be brushing noses, although Bane kept his head as far back as he could manage in his shock.

He became suddenly aware of the presence of the other caretakers in and around his cell. He felt painfully volatile as they all observed him where he was, caught off guard and unprepared. The embarrassment was almost strong enough to encourage him into fighting the caretaker off, but it was abundantly clear that he was in trouble for something, and he didn't want to make it any worse by retaliating. Instead, he collected himself as best he could, squeezing his eyes shut several times to wake himself up.

"Were you in a fight with Ish on the night he passed?" the man barked in his face. Bane flinched somewhat, but recovered as quickly as possible. It was going to be bad, he thought. He was going to be interrogated and he would have to be honest, because what if they asked him scores of questions and he lied about some of them and got his stories mixed up? He didn't have a choice. They were asking them so that they could finally decide what to do with him. That had to be it.

"Yes," he said. The man shook him slightly, and this time, it was purely instinct for Bane to find his footing and jerk back in defiance. He glared back into the caretaker's stony eyes and growled, "Why do you ask?"

He received another jostling in response, which he took this time. He knew that he shouldn't have been talking back. "And you started the fight?" the caretaker said, ignoring the previous question. At this, Bane squirmed slightly, grabbing a tight hold on the caretaker's wrists.

"_No_," Bane told him honestly. "I didn't even know he was being let out of his cell again."

"He was confined for some time before of the first fight the two of you were in," the man recollected spitefully. "A fight that you started in that case, is that correct?"

Bane swallowed a lump in his throat. "Yes."

"But he retaliated with unnecessary force, and so he was confined because you were injured. Do you recall this?" Bane could not bring himself to answer, for all at once, he could see where the interrogation was leading. _It doesn't matter_, he tried to tell himself. _You have a way out now. It doesn't matter the punishment. _"And two nights ago, you engaged in another fight with him, and I did not see it, but one can assume that it was you this time who retaliated with unnecessary force. One could also assume that during this fight, you gave him a severe head injury." The caretaker leaned even closer, if at all possible. "Ish died that night from a hemorrhage in his brain. The very same night of the fight. Were you the cause of death?"

"N-no." Bane faltered, surprised to find that things had not turned out the way he had foreseen them. Hassan had said that the caretakers were discussing it, as though they were doing it in a civilized manner, weighing options and evidence. And yet, somehow they had come to the conclusion to send into the biggest among them to merely _question _Bane about the events. How were they to determine anything from that? Didn't they know he could just as easily lie to them?

"I will ask you again," the man snarled, puffing out his chest as he inhaled. "Did you kill the prisoner Ish?"

"No, I-I—"

It happened almost too fast to be seen. The caretaker drew back his arm and slapped Bane across the face with enough force to throw him sideways onto the hard ground. Surprised, Bane scrambled immediately to get to his feet, barely acknowledging the harsh sting that the blow had left him with. The heat from the slap made him angry, and his now racing heart threatened to turn to one of anger in the face of the interrogation. But he restrained himself, promising that if he kept cool and steady, he would be rewarded with innocence. He had not meant to kill Ish, even if he had, and it didn't matter if it made him happy or terrified or angry or sad. It was _true _that he had not meant to, and as long as that was true, he was not lying to them.

"Do not lie to me, boy," the caretaker hissed. Here, Bane realized that they were not asking questions—they were seeking a confession, and it did not matter what was true as long as he admitted to doing what they suspected. This in and of itself angered Bane. It meant that there was no way for him to win. "Did you kill him?"

Bane, already perturbed by the harsh blow to the face, hated the return of the question. Stubbornly, he answered that no, he had not killed Ish, despite being able to see the direction it was going in. Almost on cue, the caretaker stomped toward him and, all in one motion, grabbed him by the neck with one hand and punched him solidly in the stomach with the other. "You like fighting?" the man said as Bane had the wind knocked out of him. "You want to settle your problems like this, then this is how we will do it."

"_I didn't kill him_," Bane said, his voice barely a wisp of air. He wrapped his arms around his abdomen, willing the loss of breath to disappear again, but it was hard. And it came to be seen that the official declaration that he was pleading innocence was a grave mistake. The caretaker drew his hand back again and punched him in the face at least five times in very quick succession. He had barely recovered from the previous blow by the time the next came along. He felt his head bobbing around on his shoulders as though he were a rag doll, but he would not let the man break him down. He was not going to confess, he didn't even know, for God's sake, and deep down, although the public beating was humiliating, he was sure he could have at least defended himself if he had been allowed. But it wasn't that kind of situation. It was the kind of situation that it was, gruesome and unforgiving, but he just kept telling himself that he had the fight in him to retaliate, and that he just wasn't allowed. He wasn't. If he hit the caretaker, all matters of Ish would have vanished and Bane would have been imprisoned for life with half a meal once a week. He couldn't do it, he _wouldn't _do that just to feel powerful…

But when he was finally on the ground, taking several painful kicks as he lay there, curled up against them, he thought that from there, he could not have recovered. His head was fuzzy and he was (mercifully) going somewhat numb. His memories replayed in his mind, first with recollections of the alleyway in the upper world and the older, harsher boys around him; then of the very recent sex dream; then of the warmth of Ari's mouth and the touch of her tongue. All the while, the caretaker was screaming, "_DID YOU KILL HIM_? _WAS IT YOU_?" Bane thought if he could only block it out—if he could just force himself to blackout the way he had done in the first fight with Ish—the caretaker would leave him be. Perhaps not, on the other hand. Perhaps the man would continue to beat him until he, too, was being heaved onto a stretcher, deposited as a hard, lifeless figure to the same place that Ish's body had been taken…

For the first time, he was genuinely frightened of death. Perhaps his recent successes—kissing Ari, obtaining a knife, being rid of his enemy—had somehow made him feel that life was, at least a little bit, worth living.

The caretaker's boot crashed into his chin, near his lower teeth. Bane felt an immediate searing pain unlike the rest of the kicks and the punches and the slaps. He tasted salt and metal all at once and realized he was choking on his own fluids. The idea of swallowing his own blood was the last straw for him. He was done, he couldn't take it, he couldn't make himself pass out, he couldn't stand the kick in the face, couldn't bear the idea that people were _watching _him lay there without moving at all. So when the caretaker asked again, "Did you kill Ish?", Bane put up his hands in defense and said, "_W-ait_." His voice broke in the middle of the word, his throat clogged and rusted.

The caretaker obliged, giving him a moment to roll onto his knees and let his own blood trickle from his mouth. "I-I don't know…" he finally admitted. His words were slurred from the pain in his jaw where he was sure one of his teeth had been knocked loose. The quickly spurting blood in his mouth was obstructing his speech but he had to stop it. The man was authority, the man held Bane's fate in his hands and he _could not hit him back_. And at the same time, he was not sure he could endure the shame and the mocking and the sheer _pain _anymore. He would have told them anything by that point, he supposed. More than the truth. He spit out another runny wad of red. "I…don't know if it was me."

He was still holding his hand over his face, letting it shield him from the caretaker's abuse. But it seemed that he had gotten somewhere with the measly admittance, for the caretaker's voice went calm again and he asked, "So it is possible that you gave him a fatal head injury."

Bane coughed. "It might be. I don't know. I threw him back on the…on the bars and he—hit his head, but he kept…he didn't…"

He trailed off, for he could see that his words had been enough. The muscles in the caretaker's neck relaxed at last, his fists unfurling and posture slackening. Bane, hyperconscious of every rustle in The Pit, could even hear the man's harsh, exhilarated breaths calm to slow, short inhales and exhales—nothing more. He was sure, then, that it was over, only to be caught off guard yet again when the man grabbed Bane by his now bloody collar again and lifted his shoulders from the floor. "You will not be let out at the fires until further notice," the caretaker said threateningly. Bane was doing his best to focus. "And if, in this time, we find that the murder was deliberate, then we will rethink your punishment." And with that, he threw Bane back into the ground and headed toward the open door of his cell.

Bane followed the man with his eyes, momentarily dumbstruck, but in the next minute, he was forcing himself back onto his feet rapidly, hobbling to the front of his cell. He could see his subject clearly; he hadn't seen her since last night, had hardly had a chance to think about her since being awake, but as soon as he realized that she must have seen it all, he found the energy.

The gate was slammed in his face as soon as the caretaker exited, but that wasn't the point. Bane met with the bars and was tempted to reach through them, although he knew he couldn't stretch all the way across to Ari's cell. The desire was heightened as soon as he saw her.

Her face was streaked with clear, saltwater tears, some that had been half-heartedly wiped away over her temples and some that had fallen down her neck. Their track marks were particular standout against the dust on her face from the dirty ground of her cell. One of her hands was gripping her short, dark hair, tugging so that her knuckles were blue. The other was cemented over her mouth harshly, squeezing her thin face into some foreign shape. Her knees were drawn up to her chest and she was visibly shaking. But it was the horror in her eyes that he found most disturbing. He had to consider the possibility that maybe it wasn't the beating that had broken her up that way; maybe it was his admittance that he wasn't sure about Ish, wasn't sure whether he was responsible or not. He had not said much. He had been able to get away with the bare minimum, but it didn't change the fact that he had indeed given way to knowing more than he had conveyed to Ari. He should have let the caretaker kill him.

"It's all right," Bane said emphatically, as if to impose some sort of reaction onto her. "It's all right, I'm all right." He knew there was blood on his face—quite a bit, he thought—from the wound in his mouth. He could still feel it sliding all down his chin and into his robes, coiling over his collarbone. "Do you trust me?" he asked her. "Can you see, I'm fine, everything is all right."

But to her, it was not all right. The tears continued to flow and she stared at him, the heart-wrenching sight that she was, for what felt like hours. He wished that he could read her, escape into her soul and feel what she felt, see what she saw, think all things that ran through her mind. He could not understand her the way he wanted to, and as he watched her cry, he wished he could have taken back the thoughts of pushing her down and feeling her around him, because in that moment, he felt that he could see the face that her rapist had seen.

He was reminded in one way or another for the coming months, and those months went by swiftly. He wasn't sure that Ari even kept track anymore. He watched her in her cell for days on end after the caretaker's beating, but he found that she was not recovering from it. It was as though she had been the one bleeding and bruising in front of a crowd, now scarred for eternity with the sheer memory of the pain.

In addition, it was abundantly clear that his admittance to very probably killing Ish did not go over well with the other prisoners. Habitually, the men all got along for the most part, keeping away from those they didn't want around and indulging in the rest. And Ish had been no different. He was crass and intentionally instigative, but as far as Bane knew, he was the man's only real enemy. Fights were not unusual in The Pit, but Bane had come to find that they were not of the caliber that his and Ish's had been. They were one-time occurrences, when someone was having a bad day and they mouthed off to another who wasn't willing to put up with it. And they would kick and punch and throw but when they were pulled apart and punished, they managed to nod after the fact and let it go. Bane had to be honest: even if Ish had been willing to let the fight go, Bane wouldn't have been able to. Ish's behavior wasn't a one-time offense. He felt entitled to treat Melisande however he wanted, no matter how she felt about it, and Bane couldn't stand that. But even still, he would not have pursued the fight again without being provoked. Yet he was being treated by the others as some unfeeling monster who was willing to go to any lengths to destroy a man. It wasn't fair.

Their hatred was potent and raw. Several people regularly spit in his cell during their freedom at the fires. No one spoke to him, thankfully, not even to say the words that he was able to read on their lips anyway. No one wanted him around because he had surprised them without meaning to. There was fear in them, fear towards a boy who was just barely into his adult years, while they were seasoned, experienced men who quarreled with fists long before he had. He felt it unmerited, and while their fear was somewhat of a compliment, he could not bear the idea that they would not spit in his cage if they thought he would ever come out again. They would think he would kill them.

Or perhaps they were not worried about that at all. Perhaps they had already decided that if he ever went out again, they would destroy him before he had the chance. They had labeled him a bloodthirsty creature despite the fact that the right motives were all _there_, and it was _Ish _who had been bad and dangerous. Ish who was willing to beat someone much younger than them into horrible condition. Ish who would not leave Melisande alone, and Bane knew that if Ish had known about Ari, he would have wanted her, too.

No one spoke to him about Ish in the time that passed. Not the prisoners nor the caretakers. He was not let out during the fires anymore, and although he had found the knife and made the shanks, he did not utilize them in all of that time. The first night after the interrogation, Bane had thought about it for quite some time. He had let his eyes bore into Ari's side as she leaned, drained. He had thought that perhaps, if he looked at her long enough, she would look back and smile, and beckon him to let her out with him so that they could stand on the stairs and kiss if she still wanted to. He had hoped that his stares could somehow erase what she had seen and heard, erase the confinement and their harsher separation. But it hadn't worked. Something had changed, and he didn't know how to fix it.

"I'm sorry," he had said into the night air, unable to see her at all. She might have been asleep, but he went on repeating it: "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry."

Things recovered after some time. Ari gradually came to life again, but it was like meeting her for the first time all over again. She was less talkative, and somehow more secretive. It was like a tease—watching her across from him day in and day out, feeling like they had been permanently damaged for one another, but still remembering with perfect clarity the smooth skin of her lips and the sight of her relaxed face so close to his. He wanted to get back to it more than anything else. He wondered if she would talk to him if he made the first move, if he let himself out and sat in front of her cell, just talking to her, even if she didn't answer at first. He thought that perhaps, if he did it for days on end, she would come around and miss him and want to say more to him. But he was afraid to try it. He was afraid it wouldn't work.

* * *

It had been nearly six months now. Bane had not left his cell other than the two baths that had taken place during that time. And of course, he had not been let out at the same time as Ari or even Melisande and child (who were, in fact, allowed to bathe before anyone else now). Although he had been discouraged from training, he kept up with it as he had been, even though he was distant from everyone he worked to protect. He assumed the tightness in his robes was due to a combination of muscle growth and further maturing. Nothing else had changed. He still spent just as much time thinking about Ari as he had before, and he almost wished he could find a way to stop.

As Bane lay in his cell during the fires, he almost wished for some feeling of restlessness. Something that would be enough to inspire him to move again. He missed the mere desire to leave—six months ago, it had been more than a simple desire. He had found it necessary to be out, accepted it as something that he wanted to do and was meant to do. Now, as he lay there, he was engulfed in utter silence as he usually was these nights, with no excitement in the world at all. Nothing to look forward to.

Feeling suddenly overwhelmed, he spun around onto his stomach and went immediately into wide-spanned pushups, forcing himself out of fatigue. He did ten before putting one arm behind his back, shifting his weight and widening his feet and continuing on. He wasn't pacing himself as usual. Bane hoped that he could wear himself out enough to fall asleep, to rid himself of too many thoughts that had been plaguing him for nights on end. He was tired of thinking so much. He was tired of missing things he felt had disappeared.

His arms were hurting horribly and his ribcage was screaming. The muscles in his neck protested but he wouldn't slow down. Thunder rumbled in his blood and he felt cold and hot at the same time, drenching quickly in sweat and shivering as he pushed himself. _Up, down, up down_, he kept repeating in his head. He pushed away everything else and thought that maybe he could die right then, exert himself to the point of extinction, and he didn't much care.

His head was pulsing and he was welling with feeling. With each push, he felt it increase in his chest, flowing throughout him in every which way and he was _angry_, still angry about Ish even though he was dead and angry with Ari for disappearing and angry at himself for letting the caretaker beat him into submission. He should have held out, he should have waited until he was unconscious and held his tongue.

As he pushed up, Bane threw all his strength against himself, pushed himself up and stumbled into standing. In the next moment, he had sped over to the back of his cell and slammed his forearm into the stone wall. The side of his fist butted against the rough material, but he followed through with the other arm until he was beating the wall incessantly, ignoring whatever pain it should have caused. He angled himself against him, throwing his shoulder blades into it, giving all his body weight into it.

He finished by ramming his unprotected knuckles into the stone and emitting some combination of a grunt of pain and a war cry. It escalated in his throat, gaining energy and power until the sound was on his tongue, vibrating through his entire head.

He drew ragged breaths, straining his ears to find out if he had woken anyone up. He was sure he had; if he listened hard enough, he could almost hear his own voice still echoing throughout The Pit. But all that he heard was distant rustling as he always did.

Bane collapsed onto the ground, his wounded hands cradling his face. His arms were shaking and he didn't dare look at them, but he could feel the sting and soreness of the wounds he had inflicted upon himself. He sat there, curled over his body, recovering from his own pent up emotion, when he heard a voice.

"Oh, shh…"

The small sounds reached his ears over the sound of his own breathing. He gave it his attention, trying to place the voice, but it was difficult, as his head was still ringing. It was another moment before he could surely determine that it was Melisande, and that he had disturbed the baby.

Feeling guilty, Bane debated on what to do. He squeezed his hands together, his brow furrowed as he stared around him. He did not ant to look in her direction for fear that she was already staring angrily into his cell. It as late and he had woken people—the mother of a six-month-old was not the right person to wake, he thought.

Further berating himself for the display, Bane stood up again and reached under his cot in the corner, feeling around for knife he still had stashed. It had been sitting there for some time now, although every so often, he would take it out at night and twirl it around in his hands, considering inviting himself out. But that night, he was sure he had to use it—sure he had to apologize to Melisande for disturbing her night.

Bane's eyes focused closely on Ari's cell as he reached through the bars of his own and began toying with the lock. He was startled to find her just barely illuminated, sitting up to the side of her cell, facing him. She watched him almost as closely as he watched her, and he thought that perhaps she was wondering if he was coming out to meet her. But he did not dare to try to read her expression, and he did not feel secure enough to initiate anything at all with her. He never had, really, but that had only gotten worse with her distance. He was not willing to risk inviting her to walk on the stairs with him again. If she wanted to, she would ask him to let her out, wouldn't she? He didn't want to think about it too much.

The lock of his cell now undone, he ventured out into the hall, feeling almost nostalgic about the area. It had been a long time since he had been out. The walk to Melisande's cell was short, and he had to stand several feet away from it and clear his throat before going any closer. He didn't want to startle her.

"Ah," she said when she saw him, a look of somewhat disinterested surprise on her face. "Breaking rules again, I see." She beckoned him to come him, and he toyed with her lock only briefly before it, too sprung open.

"I only…wanted to apologize," he said, ignoring he invitation to sit down somewhere. "I think I might have…woken you or…Talia up…I think."

"No, no, she's been flailing around all evening, since the fires," said Melisande, waving away his apology. "She is just now getting tired, I hope… See, she is yawning." Bane nodded politely, but had nothing else to say to her. She smiled at him quietly, allowing him to sit in silence for only a few moments. She went onto ask him why she had hardly seen him for such a long time. She wanted to know what had happened. He suspected she did not remember the event with the caretaker, or perhaps even Ish's death—she had not been very interested in anything other than Talia. If she had noticed, she didn't care, and although it might have been odd, he appreciated that she did not treat him any differently. He gave her sparse answers all the same, shrugging and chocking it all up to training and confinement. It didn't matter to her either way.

Talia stretched in her mother's arms, and Melisande smiled. She looked up at Bane, ecstasy glowing in her eyes. "Would you like to hold him?" She was calling the baby "he" and "him", never referring to her by name.

Before Bane could answer, she was already pushing the bundle into his arms; she took no note of his battered skin even as he reached out for the baby.

Suddenly, he felt a wash of serenity. He felt a solidarity he had not felt in much too long as he sat there, holding the little being in his arms. He could feel Talia existing in his hands, existing as contact with another person that he hadn't had. He harkened back to her birth, when he had first held her when Ari was ready to relax. It had not been quite like this then. Somehow, the child's growth affected him. She looked up at him with gray eyes, sucking on her fingers and squirming every so often when she wanted a change of pace. He was not sure why, but he felt some odd in the experience—felt that perhaps, Talia was someone admirable instead of just a baby.

The child breathed easy in his arms, her small head held aloft by his shoulder. Her skin was clean and soft; if it weren't for the old material that clothed her, one might not have even known she was being raised in a prison. Melisande must have been giving any of the food she had to Talia, as the mother looked to be losing weight while the six-month-old remained healthy and plump. The Pit had not yet taken her into its swallows. She had been born in darkness, and yet she had no way of knowing. She lived as a child lived, the only way she knew how, and he had never seen a sight quite as innocent as she was.

It felt like some rotten chore to pass the resting Talia back into her mother's arms. Melisande beckoned for her daughter, stretching out her hands and whispering, "She is very tired, my friend. I will put her to bed." So Bane gave the child to her and bade them good night quietly, seeing himself out of her cell and clicking it shut behind him. He watched briefly as Melisande got slowly to her feet and carefully laid Talia down on her cot, wrapping her in as many blankets as she could. The child stirred only slightly, and rested easily soon enough as far as he could see. As Melisande began to hum a lullaby, he turned and left the family to their slumber. He could hear the somber, comforting tune as he walked through the darkness, barely able to see his own feet. He had heard the song many a time since the birth of Talia, but that night, he felt that it meant something more to him. Perhaps his mother had once sang the same song to him when he was young—when she was laying him down to sleep in their comfortable home, in their fine lives…

"Bane."

Ari's whisper startled him out of fuzzy memories. He turned to her immediately, surprised that she had addressed him first and afraid that she might have something to say that he didn't want to hear. Surely if she was awake, she had heard him beating the wall. And she wouldn't have liked that.

But his concerns were washed away almost immediately, as she reached out to him through her bars and took both of his wrists in her hands. She felt gently around, searching for the wounds that she was sure were there. He could feel her fingertips grazing sore areas, touching briefly on open scratches that had hardened over. It was not much longer before she delved into speech in a way she had not done in months.

"I kept thinking that you were a killer," she breathed, and the words nearly tore him to shreds. "I thought it would be wrong to accept you for it—to encourage it and tell you that it was all right. But then I spent a long time thinking of your gentleness and your respect and your selflessness…" She did not look up at him even once; she kept her attention steadily on his arms. "…And I was not sure of this until tonight—until I saw that you are not emotionless, that you are full of things the way that I am and the way that we all should be. I was not sure until I saw you holding the child, could feel your pity and care radiating out. But now I am sure that it doesn not matter what happened that night in the fight. It does not change you. The death of a miserable human being does not change who you are. Not even if you meant for him to die."

Bane couldn't seem to find the proper reaction. He was filling to the brim with some otherworldly mixture of happiness and the strong desire to cry. And naturally, he wasn't going to let himself cry right in front of her—especially considering he wasn't sure he even remembered how to do it properly. It had been many years since he had let himself become so overwhelmed with sadness or frustration. It didn't even make sense for him to want to cry. He was glad she had said it, glad that she was back to normal, glad that she was holding his hands through the bars and just inches away from him. He could have gone and let her out of her cell if he had wanted. Everything was the way it had been and he was _happy _about it. So what was the point of the tug in his chest or the hard lump in his throat or the fact that he was now clenching his jaw to keep it from quivering?

"Are you all right?" she asked.

"Yes," he answered immediately, sniffing and looking down at the ground.

"I'm sorry," she told him. "I am."

He stood there with her until she let go of him, giving him a gentle, encouraging smile even though she was backing away from him. But he didn't mind going to bed then; he felt that, although his mind was still heavy, he could sleep again.

_**A/N: **Wah sorry this took so long and kind of droned into being a filler chapter . Been pretty busy, but here it is. I promise next chapter will have a lot more going on throughout, but do let me know what you think of this as always. Thank you as usual for your response on the last chapter, you all are wonderful : ) PS: I am off to Renn Fest this morning, so I didn't have a chance to proofread unfortunately. Hopefully nothing is too off, once I am home I will edit if need be._


	10. 9 Tisa'a

**Warning: **Scenes of violence and intense sexuality.

**9. Tisa'a**

Changes overtook The Pit. Perhaps a change in ownership—it was well known that someone controlled what went on, someone who sought leadership without responsibility. Whoever the new man was, he saw fit to be a bit more proactive. Bane even saw him come down into The Pit when a new prisoner was lowered. He dressed in all black, in higher-class clothing, modernized to the point where Bane had a hard time recognizing its origins. The man spoke with the new prisoner privately, although the rest of The Pit had gone so painfully silent that they could almost hear the conversation.

The man was placing his enemies in the prison. In a way, it was fairer than it had been before, and in another way, it was impossibly unjust. It once was so that people were imprisoned for something the state—or whoever wielded power over them—deemed criminal. Now it seemed that criminal acts were of no importance; instead, people entered hell simply because they were on the wrong side of the equation with a man who looked like he might have eaten them all alive. Bane observed the owner's thick brow and swollen chest. He took note of the stern expression and the air of murder that he carried with him. As he did so, Bane could not help wondering if he could take the man in a fight—if he had any hopes of standing a chance.

There came a time when he even thought he would have the opportunity. Word spread quickly through The Pit that a new tradition was going to be enforced, one that would affect the current prisoners and be imposed on all those who would come later. On the day that it took place, the prison was filled with modern men who carried ropes and long, thin whips. Equipment was lowered—unrecognizable metal objects—and fires were started in the middle of the afternoon. The Pit heated quickly, both in temperature and nerves. The majority of the usual caretakers could be found peering from their headquarters, watching the scenario much the way that the prisoners did.

"_Taabuur_!" shouted one of the men who had been lowered. The Arabic had not been used in some time; Bane, who had never had a great grasp of the language, had largely forgotten all traces of it, and only discovered that they were being ordered to form a line when the outer prisoners were seen quickly shuffling into a definitive formation. The unfamiliar men began traipsing through the corridors, jamming keys into their locks and extracting prisoners rudely. Bane stood by the gate curiously, still perplexed by the setup that took place at the front of the queue. When his gate was opened and a man grabbed him roughly by the arm, Bane instinctively jerked away, which yielded a sharp slap in the face and a prod into the line. He did not argue further; the men were unfamiliar territory, and he was not willing to risk angering them.

Ari was in line ahead of him by a few others. She looked back at him, her scarf wrapped around her mouth, her eyes wielding fear. He wanted to beckon her back to him, have her stand at his side, but before he could manage, she had been coaxed forward and was looking back ahead.

The situation came further into the light as throaty yell burst into the hot air. Bane froze along with the others, and suddenly he was aware of something painful and dangerous and unwanted. He stood on his toes, tried to see over the heads of those who were taller than him, but he could not see the front of the line. Something was happening there, but he could not see whatever it was. Other people in the line were moving, startling into commotion at the sight of whatever fate awaited them. Bane briefly considered that the foreign men were simply going to put them all to death, but the concern did not seem so desperate.

As the line moved up, Bane finally caught a glimpse of what was happening. He could hear fabric tearing as the next in line had the back of his robes ripped down the middle and pulled to the side. The man's spine and shoulder blades were exposed, and the foreigners wasted no time in pressing a long metal object into the man's skin. He, like the others, expressed the pain of the hot object, but he wriggled and fought them and almost as a reflex, a guard reared back and drew the whip against the prisoners back twice in succession until the man was slumped over, supported by gruff arms.

Bane went cold. He immediately checked Ari's position in line, knowing that by now, she must have known the fate that was awaiting her at the front. He was not afraid for himself, but for her above all else. Time seemed to speed up as soon as the realization hit him, and before he knew it, she was in the front of the line, her head scarf yanked away from her face, her robes torn out of the way, and the heated metal making contact with her back. He could hear the sizzling of her skin as it scraped into her flesh, burning and cutting all at once. He watched in horror as they carved a shape—one that resembled a tiny hill—right beside her spine. She didn't scream—not all of them did. But he knew she must have used every ounce of resistance she possessed in order to avoid it. He held his breath until he was lightheaded, wobbling to the side, just in time for her to be dragged to her feet and shoved back in the direction of her cell.

Her eyes were drooped and her mouth was agape as she walked past him. He reached out to her but she merely clenched her jaw and closed her eyes in evident pain. Her teeth dug into her lower lip and the tendons in her neck protruded as they tensed. He watched her clamber all the way back to her cell, and before he knew it, it was his turn.

He was pushed onto his knees, onto the hard stone ground, and he was being touched by too many hands all at once. It was chaotic and terrifying and he stared ahead of him to see the metal that would brand his skin heating again in the fiery coals they had set up to burn on until each prisoner was marked. The back of his robes were open now, and he was forced down further, face-to-face with earth, on his hands and knees, far too familiar, far too dreaded to be relived.

The rod came into contact and his jaw dropped. His throat worked to produce a sound but his vocal chords were stunned by the searing heat and the slow, angry slicing of breaking skin. He closed his eyes and endured it, and his mind raced with the notion that they had done that to Ari, who was small and malnourished. He had not even tried to stop them. Why?

Soon enough it was over. He was jerked up to his feet again, which wobbled from shock under his weight. As they pushed him away, he spun back around, the anger welling further as the aftermath burned against him. "What is this for?" he blurted, livid that he had been forced to watch Ari go through what he now knew to be a tremendous amount of pain.

To his surprise, no one struck him. One of the guards snickered, but miraculously, Bane received an answer from him: "You are Nadir's property now."

Back in his cell, Bane dug his nails into his forehead and the back of his neck as he heard Talia's infantile cries. The owner—Nadir, whoever he was—had no qualms about ethics, it seemed. His men were willing to burn a branding into a child who was not yet a year old. He was sick to his stomach over it, and although the rest of the daylight hours were filled with pain, Talia's sobs carried on longer into the evening, until finally, she had worn herself out enough to fall asleep.

Bane, Ari, and Melisande did not seem able to look at one another, each harboring their own personal thoughts about the ordeal. The day seemed a nightmare, and the pain seemed only to worsen as night fell. There were no fires that evening. The caretaker's distributed food solemnly, and not a single conversation was heard. No one wanted to bring the experience up, and they all knew that they could not speak without thinking about it.

So it was surprising to Bane when Ari suggested nonverbally that he open her cell that night. He had been facing her cell, trying to see her in the shadows wearily, trying to feel some comfort that could be enough to relax him. She stretched her arm through the bars and waved her hand around, gesturing to her lock and nodding to him. She was easy to see when she was moving. Perhaps easy to sense. He hurriedly heeded her request and let her out with him. They paralleled one another and after a moment's eye contact, she wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him into a welcome embrace. He buried his face in her collar and squeezed her tightly, careful to avoid her shoulder blades and the recent wounds they shared.

They held each other for a long while, in the middle of the corridor, until she whispered, "Let us talk downstairs." And they made their way all the way to the bottom where they had periodically sparred. When they were level on the ground, she asked him to sit, and he did, at which point, she lowered herself next to him and laid her head in his lap, looking up at him. She groaned slightly as she situated herself, clearly mindful of her back. For a minute, he was afraid she wanted to talk about the branding that day—afraid that she would want to relive it and have him do the same. He was afraid he would get angry with her for mentioning it at all, and he didn't want to, because he felt awful that she had experienced it and should have cared enough to let her vent. But his over-consideration of the possibility yielded nothing; instead, she delved into an unexpected subject.

"Do you love me?" she asked with no inhibitions.

Although he was surprised, Bane did not feel uncomfortable beneath the question. They had all endured such powerful emotion that day that it was no wonder something serious had come to her mind. He could not manage to look away from her. He wanted to give her the best answer he could, but he wasn't sure where to start. He could have easily given some simple, one-word answer, but he felt she deserved more than that. He wished he could have prepared for it somehow—foreseen the question and found a way to tell her that sounded right. So he put off answering. "I had a dream that you asked me that once," he muttered, placing his hand on the top of her head and allowing his fingers to meld into her short hair. He fidgeted with his robes, the fraying edges soft against the pads of his fingertips. He rolled the fabric in his hands, twisted it into a feeble rope.

"What did you say in the dream?" she asked him, her voice like a river. Somehow it was easier now, easier to tell the truth and have it be understand and taken properly and—

"I said that I did," he blurted, afraid to prolong his response any more than he already had.

Ari's face spread into a small, easy smile. Her eyes wrinkled at the corners as they usually did, and she breathed a small laugh. "I hope it was true," she said quietly, and the happiness in her face and the fact that it was obvious that she wanted to hear a yes from him made his insides swell. "I think I would like it if it were true."

He gave her a smile in return—something he could not recall ever having done for her before. It was short and very small, but it was a smile nonetheless. The sight of it seemed to please her. She looked even happier when he said the words, "It was true. It's true." And although they had never endured a day so horrible in The Pit—not even during fights with Ish, not even when Ish had died—Bane could say for himself at least, that it had ended in uncommon happiness.

* * *

Things fell into place. Over seven years, things were stationary, at rest. The brandings healed into white, risen scars, Ish's existence ceased to matter, and all that remained was the largely waned memory of the pain they had suffered. The other prisoners never warmed up to him again—aside from Ari, of course, and Melisande had never cared—but there was no hostility. The new owner, Nadir, did not enforce any new, horrific rituals on them, and he was nearly forgotten about.

There were other physical fights in The Pit as there had been before, but Bane was not a part of them. He had not fought anyone since Ish, but he did keep up the training; he sparred with Ari more oftenthan he was comfortable with. It had gotten to the point where she was hardly any use for endurance or agility. He was fast now, quick to detect her motions, and the only thing she had over him was her size. She was now significantly smaller than him, although they ate nearly the same amount, just as often. She was more nimble than himself, and could squeeze out of things he couldn't dream of escaping.

There was an added ease: somewhere over the years, Hassan must have begun to pity Ari, and he had taken to knowingly leaving her cell unlocked after the fires. Bane still had the lock picks hidden away, but Hassan's apparent knowledge of their being out at night facilitated the sparring. They did not have to be quite as quiet as they once had been. They did not fear harsh consequences. Bane felt a sense of arrogance in it, as though he had some control over his situation at last. He felt surrounded by alliances, able to instill fear into the other prisoners, able to keep their eyes away from Melisande although he could nearly taste their desire for her in the air. But they were safe.

Talia had been speaking for years now. It had not been long before it was clear that the child took after her mother. Talia and Melisande shared the same intensity and determination—at seven years old, Talia knew the meaning of survival. She would have to, Bane thought, being raised in The Pit. But there was something remarkable about the trait's potency. Her strength was evident. Bane spent a good deal of time with her, although it had required prodding from Ari in the beginning. Talia was fond of them both, chatting innocently about things that she liked and stories that her mother told her about the upper world. She was apt to playing rough, throwing her full body weight into whatever blow she could manage against Bane or Ari. She was spirited and strong, and had all the makings of a leader, even though she lived in what must have been constant fear.

Bane had often heard Melisande whispering to her daughter in the later hours. "There is no one you can trust, my dove," she cooed one evening. He had heard her say it before. "You have only yourself when it comes down to it. And if it does, you must protect yourself at all costs. You must survive, for it is the most important thing. Have your guard up, my son…"

Talia was raised as a boy should have been raised. Anyone who interacted with her did so under the impression that she _was _a boy, which was ideal, of course, and especially important in Melisande's eyes. Ari, who was now in her early twenties, went to great lengths to keep her identity a mystery now. She constantly smudged dirt on her face to hide the feminine jaw and delicate bone structure that gave way to a less-than-masculine appearance.

On a night alone with her, Bane had watched Ari smoothing back her short hair with both hands, pressing her palms into her forehead periodically. She emitted long sighs, slouched against the stone wall at the bottom of The Pit. "It must confuse her all the time," she mused absent-mindedly. "If she even knows that she is a girl. A robbery, it seems. I have my identity, I know who I am, but Talia…"

Bane reached out and touched the front of her neck lightly with his fingertips. She closed her eyes and relaxed somewhat. "You shouldn't worry," he said to her. "It is easier this way. It must be done."

"But when she gets older." Ari raised her eyebrows, then scoffed. "I shouldn't say that. We can only hope that she will be able to leave this place soon. Another year perhaps."

"Ari, she could not make the climb at eight years old," he answered. "She is small, we cannot hope that she would grow to twice the size in a year's time."

Ari leaned forward, an air of desperation about her. "Yes, but if one of us were to go with her, Bane," she suggested. "We could follow behind her, catch her if she were to fall and help her with the jump. It is possible. If we worked together, she could get out of here. It is only a matter of what age she much reach to survive in the upper world on her own. I could not think of something bad happening to her. Nothing like what we know could happen."

Bane had never told her about his reason for imprisonment, but somehow, she had come to know. She had not brought it up, or asked him, or suggested that she knew, but she spoke to him about her own experiences as though he understood on a more personal level than he had let on. At first, he was stunned by it, stricken with concern and worry. He wondered how she had figured it out and what she now thought of him. But she always spoke of the subject gently and with great understanding, and he now knew that their same crime brought them together even more so in her mind, and he did not blame her for it. It was solidarity at its finest.

"How long have you been thinking about making the climb with her?" he asked her. She had never brought the idea up before. "In all these years—almost a decade—you have never tried it yourself. You never liked the idea."

"If I climbed with Talia, I would not be doing it for myself." Ari shifted, moving over to Bane's side. Her head dropped onto his shoulder, her bristly hair tickling the crook of his neck. "I don't expect to make it, but it would be worth the fall if she could make it out. She is young. She deserves some sort of future. If there is any way possible, it must be done."

Her words were warming and genuine. They instilled some small hope in him that even if they spent the rest of their lives in The Pit, he could spend his with her, and they could save an innocent child from a life of darkness. "I would climb with her, too," he offered, "if you wanted me to."

Ari changed positions again, turning to face him, her right knee prodding into his thigh. She cupped his face in her hands as she had done so frequently and said, "Would you do anything that I asked you to do?" Her nose brushed his and he closed his eyes slowly, inhaling in her proximity.

"Of course," he breathed. "Anything you wanted."

"Because you are in love with me?"

"Yes, because I'm in love with you."

"And you have loved me, and I have loved you, for over seven years, and in all of this time, you have never asked me to do anything for you."

He was perplexed by the words. Quite quickly, his mind was occupied with sex, wondering if that was what she meant. And of course he had never _asked _her for it. It would have been wrong to do so. He always allowed her to lead any interaction, allowed her to dictate at which point things were too far or uncomfortable for her. It didn't matter that he wanted her as badly as he did, because he never could have done it if there had been any trace of hesitation in her, and until she said that she wanted to, he would not do it.

"You have given me all the best," Bane told her. She was hovering closer now, her lower lip brushing his upper. He felt a chill. "I have no need to ask for anything more." Each word he said caused a touch of mouth, a receiving breath, and the further angling of her body. It was taunting, but there was nothing he liked more than her habit of carrying on a conversation with her face right up to his that way.

"But I want for you to know," she whispered; he opened his eyes to find her watching him intently—seriously, "that if there was anything that you wanted, I would do it for you just as you would do anything for me."

She held his gaze for a time after that, and everything was wiped from his mind when he became absolutely certain that she was talking about sex. It was an invitation—it _had _to be—but even when she closed the distance between him and pressed hard into his mouth, clutching his neck and curving her chest against his, he knew he could not ask. It did not feel right still, even if she were _asking _him to ask. He wanted her to do it. He wanted to know that she was doing it because she wanted to. He couldn't do it, he thought, if she did not want to.

As always, it was hard to resist. She was now quite accustomed with his obvious arousal, but he felt awkward nonetheless when she did something she had never done before and pulled herself onto his lap. He almost uttered the word, "no," but the pressure against him as she straddled him was too much to give up. When he felt her hips start making slow motions, he couldn't imagine he had even thought of telling her not to.

Ari kissed the side of his face, making her way across his jaw to his neck. Her lips were warm and soft against the cold skin of his neck and he melted into the embrace. She was still moving, pushing up against him. He felt a sharp and somehow welcome pain when she tugged at his skin with her teeth lightly, sucking hard in between. He enjoyed it only a few seconds longer before he took the hint and placed his hand on the back of her head to pull her down closer to him. He reciprocated the neck play, repeating the actions she had made carefully. He found it less-than-ritual; his body ran away with the task, engrossed itself in the tactics until he was pulling her flesh harder than she had done to him, brought his hands to her neck and kept her in place, and listened to the encouraging sounds of her heavy, raspy breathing.

Bane forced her even closer in, hyperconscious of her breasts against his torso. He kissed back up to her face and took the teasing from the tip of her tongue, responded to it, positively reveled in it. The very muscles of his fingers were working to hold her—perhaps to keep from lifting her away, laying her harshly on the ground, and finally, _finally _discovering what she could be like.

She let it go on for longer than he would have expected, but when she was done, things came to an abrupt stop. She clutched the front of his clothing in her fists and went utterly rigid. The warmth disappeared from her comfort and she became a stabilized object, placed coldly atop his legs. She rolled her shoulders slightly and tilted her head back momentarily until she presumably collected herself, at which point, she dipped back down to him again. He thought for sure that she would start kissing him again, but she did not.

"Still no?" she hissed into his throat. She emitted a low chuckle, one that expressed possible disappointment.

"I don't…" He trailed off, knowing fully well what he wanted to say, but dually understanding that it would not have been right to say it. He could have told her that he didn't know what she wanted, but he was almost positive that he did. He could hardly stand to think about it anymore, because he wished that she would just _do _what she wanted instead of waiting for him. Couldn't she just understand?

Ari kissed his forehead and hoisted herself up to her feet, resting her hands on his shoulders for support. She took his hands in another moment, walking backwards to encourage him up as well, and he did so, although he felt very down. "You're a hard man to read, Bane," she said. "Indeed you are." It might have sounded bad, but her voice was gentle and kind, and she held his hand as they walked up the stairs, and it was not that she was mad, but perhaps, that she, too, was dealing with the internal struggle of where was too far. He had not considered the possibility for her—he tried not to imagine that she harbored immense desire for him, because he feared even thinking of it could be insulting.

The evening repeated in his mind until all hours of the night. Bane lay on his firm cot and found that whenever he was exhausted enough to drift into slumber, his mind reproduced the feeling of Ari on his lap up against him and his heart would race and his mouth would go dry and he would be wide awake again, half-tempted to let her out again and say, "I'm sorry for not asking you to have sex with me. I'm sorry for not having done it already. If you want me to right now, we can." He didn't, of course, but the urge was potent and enduring.

He woke to the sound of Talia's voice outside of his cell. Her tinny, high-pitched voice frequently echoed through the prison, and was most usually audible in the early mornings. She was privileged to three meals per day, unlike any other prisoner, even the elders, who were lucky if they had two meals. But it made perfect sense. Talia was no criminal. She was imprisoned by unfortunate chance, and therefore deserved the best treatment she could be afforded. The caretakers seemed to heed that, which Bane respected.

At the fires, when they were all let out again, Talia ran to Bane and attached herself to his right leg. She jumped up and down and looked up at him with a toothy smile, one that he returned gently. He was fond of the child, found her immense quantities of energy to be refreshing. He allowed her to pull him to a nearby fire where Melisande was seating herself wearily. Over the past years, she had aged significantly. Bane imagined that the stress of trying to raise a child in a prison where her gender had to remain unknown was no small task.

Melisande and Talia were let out of their cells now that Talia was old enough. Bane supposed the caretakers figured that they were safe together, mother and daughter, and that no one would dare disturb the child while she was with her mother. Since being let out, Talia had taken to Bane as though he was her father; he always wondered what Melisande had told her daughter about him. Perhaps the mother had remembered Bane's desire to protect them all while Melisande was pregnant. He often heard her telling stories to Talia—things about the upper world, occurrences that she held dear to her heart, and so on. He had never heard Melisande discuss Bane's offer to protect them, but judging by the way Talia had adapted so well to him, he felt it safe to assume that she had heard the story.

Ari was asleep in her cell, and she stayed in slumber all throughout the fires. Still, she was confined, even at night, and Bane suspected that the caretakers—other than Hassan, who had always known—had since inferred that she was a woman. It was so difficult for her to hide it after all. And although they knew, they all still pretended along with her, acting as though she were confined for no reason at all rather than as protection against the other prisoners.

Bane bade goodnight to Talia and her mother when they were all led back to their respective cells. As usual, he went immediately to his cot and, after a few moments, he drifted off to sleep.

It was not long at all, however, before his light sleep was interrupted by tiny background noises. He mumbled and turned onto his side, fatigued, but the sounds continued—now recognizable as a pair of voices. It was not unusual to hear whispered conversations at night, but the one he currently heard was close in proximity and was filled with emotional tones that encouraged Bane to sit up. Of course he could see nothing in the pitch black of night in The Pit, but he could detect motion rather close to his own cell. It was too close to have been inside of another enclosure; it seemed that someone was walking around freely, and, as he had no clue who it might have been, he saw fit to investigate. He had the nagging feeling that something was not right.

He sat on the edge of his bed and squinted, waking himself up. A man was speaking quickly, hostility laced within his vocals, and a strange voice responded with equal amounts of anger. It was odd to hear it together, whispers that should have been yells. Bane reached under his bed instinctively for a means to unlock his gate if the need arose. Slowly, he made it to his gate.

A great mixture of feelings fled through his veins immediately when he realized where the conversation was taking place. The voices were coming from Ari's cell—Ari, who have been asleep not long ago and who should have had no means of exiting her cell without Bane's assistance. But the voices were right there, right by her cell, and the strange, non-masculine voice was hers. Bane listened hard, his heart racing, the negative inkling overcoming him.

"I looked after you all these years," said the man. "I gave you special treatment when you didn't deserve it, I allowed you unmerited freedom, and you think you don't owe me your gratitude?" There was a pause then, evident of some struggle, before Ari responded.

"_Gratitude_?" she repeated. The word was followed by a grunt on her part and footsteps. "You have _had _my gratitude! You had my respect and my thanks! What definition do you follow when you suggest I have not already given you what you believe I owe you?"

There was a gasp and the man spoke, too quietly for Bane to hear, but as the footsteps countered one another, Bane could not wait any longer. He fumbled to open the lock of his cell and when he was free, he stepped out into the corridor, darted across to Ari's cell and found that the gate was ajar. Without hesitation, he barged right in, now able to distinguish two figures in the dark. One was domineering, hovering threateningly over the other and holding them steady. The person had sensed Bane's entrance, could see him, perhaps, and stopped in motion, where his hands had been working near the front of something.

Bane's mind had gone soft, and he immediately charged the man in the cell, pulled him away from Ari, and put his hand around the man's throat. Bane stared into the face of the stranger until the details were startlingly evident and it all came together. The conversation, the idea of some favor done and gone without repayment—Hassan's neck was in Bane's hand, and when the recognition became clear, Bane allowed sheer instinct to take over.

He threw the caretaker out of the cell and followed him with a snarl, accepting that the man had been forcing his way onto Ari, trying to guilt her into giving him pleasure just because he had shown her kindnesses over the years. Bane let the idea sink in and he waded in it, and the fury consumed him to the point where he no longer felt in control of his actions. He was running his knuckles right into Hassan's face squarely, time after time, until the caretaker fell to the ground without a sound. Still Bane pounded into his nose, mouth, eyes, neck, and when his fists were covered in blood that was only partially his own, he took the caretaker's head in his hands and pulled upwards, at which point Hassan uttered weakly, "W-wait, please, I…can…" But Bane did not stop, instead ramming the man's skull against the rock once, twice, _nine times _and his throat was full of hatred and bloodlust and he was going to kill Hassan, on purpose, and he would not regret it. The man's nature had been a lie, the goodness and concern and care had all been a waste because the man was a heathen and he had tried to have sex with Ari, _his Ari_, and Bane would not have it. He would not let it go unpunished.

At the end of it, Hassan was mangled. His face was covered in blood in entirety, and red puddles were wading from the back of his head. His eyes were now glossed over, wide and empty, staring at nothing, and that was it. He was dead in a few raging minutes, and Bane hovered over him like a hungry creature, wishing the man had been able to endure more, had fought back—wishing Bane could have hurt him more, made the pain _last_.

He wiped his hands on his Hassan's robes and stood up, taking ragged, exerted breaths. His hands were pulsating from the consistent contact, but he did not care, and he was not sorry. Not even when he turned to look at Ari. Not even when he considered that this time, she had watched him fully mean to kill the caretaker. He had done it for her, and even if she did not know it, he had made good on the promise to keep her safe. Punishment went along with protection, he determined. Hassan had gotten what he deserved.

Bane sidled back into Ari's cell, succumbed with a new level of emotion. He found no difficulty in making eye contact with her, but managed to feel a slightly twinge of surprise when she did not appear entirely fazed by what she had just experienced and witnessed as an aftermath. Bane had shut down in every way he could think of, and it appeared that Ari had done the same. He tried to be concerned about it, but he found that he did not care. The idea of Hassan having sex with Ari fueled fire within Bane, and the idea that she would have gone through the same horror again, alone in the darkness as he had been.

Her eyes were weary in more ways than one. She appeared drained, yet intent at the same time. She did not allow herself to look away from him even for a split second. Instead, she stared him down, just as he did to her, and she was speaking to him with her eyes, although he could not interpret what she meant. He could think of nothing. He was nothing.

And Ari was his. Not Hassan's.

He advanced on her on a whim and grabbed her face and brought her to him like he had never done before. She took the force, molded into his kiss far more easily than he would have expected, and he had to do it that night—he had to have sex with her, finally, because she wanted to and he could not bear the idea that another man thought that she belonged to him. It was not right.

He buried himself in her face, pressed his fingers into her neck, brought a hand down to her chest and pulled her collar down. She did not protest, she wouldn't have, she had wanted to do it for some time. He wriggled his hand under her robes, under the cloth that she wrapped around her chest to keep it looking flat under her clothes. He felt the warm, soft tissue in his palm, squeezed it hard and explored its every detail. He was _more _than aroused, he thought, and he pushed it up against her willingly, and she made a pleasing sound that had him wanting even more.

He started walking forward, forcing her backwards, holding her waist now and keeping her steady. He led her to her cot, laid her down on it and followed with her, crawling over her body hungrily. He was moving in fast motion, trying to touch her everywhere all at once, and he did so, sliding his hands under her, following the curve of her body and wondering why, _why _had he taken so long to do this when it was better than _anything _they had ever done.

She had her hand between his legs, feeling around him, feeling the shape and the format and it was good because she liked it. She kept separating her legs wider, forcing him to rub up against her and it drove him crazy, but he had to explore, he had to make up for everything he had missed.

He slid his hand beneath her robes again, from underneath this time. He trailed his way up her thighs and observed the way she shivered and the way that her back arched. When he touched her, she let out a sharp gasp and closed her eyes. He trailed his fingers around her, inside her when he could, and she was warm and inviting and ready, but he didn't initiate it until she said, "Go on, go on."

It was a struggle, with all the material of their robes in the way. Ari pulled her clothes up over her hips and he took a moment to stare at her, half-naked, the way he had dreamed about her. It was just the way he had imagined, and he thought of nothing else. When his clothes were out of the way they both slowed down immensely, reveling in their shaky breaths and leaning closer to each other. They were both momentarily frozen, and she reached up to touch his face caringly, the way she always had done, and he closed his eyes and rested his forehead against hers. They were so close to it, hovering right by each other, but suddenly, the idea that they were going to have sex became larger than life.

He leaned near her ear and kissed it. Then he said, "Are you scared?"

Ari moved slightly beneath him and he felt her nod. "Yes."

"Me too."

"Be gentle"

"Certainly."

And he was. Her anatomy was ready for it, but Bane did not want it to be harsh like the first time had been for her. He pushed in very, very slowly, drew out without making it even halfway in, and let her body language and breathing dictate the strength of his own motions. He thought it was unfortunate that it had to hurt for her when he had never felt anything so wonderful in his life. Her body connected with his, locked around him in the most perfect way possible. "Is it okay?" he kept asking, but she always nodded before he had even finished the question, her eyes closed and her hands smoothing over his face and neck.

There was a moment when he was deep inside, engrossed in the sensation, when he heard her breathe easy for the first time, and the look on her face was telling of delight. So he sped things slightly, went in all the way and then it seemed to come naturally. He didn't have to think about where he had to stop or when to let her rest—he was moving rhythmically with her and she liked it and he loved it and no one would ever touch her again.

"I love you," she whispered, her nails digging in his shoulders. "Always. Always."

The words and the speed they had escalated to were enough of a combination, and it was the most satisfying sensation—better than he could ever have imagined. He kissed her over and over again and eased away from her, gazing into her face in amazement. He fell to her side and wrapping his arms around her. His chest was heavy with emotion and utmost happiness, and he felt that unusual tightness in his throat that led him to believe he could have cried if he had allowed the tears to fall. He felt that the past had been erased—he did not even think about the body of the old caretaker that was lying outside of the cell where they had just done what he had always wanted to do.

Ari did not fight the urge to cry. Her face was overrun with tears, but she was smiling, just the way he had seen her when they had first become acquainted. He loved the way she looked that way, he loved the amount of emotion she was able to convey and experience and he wished he could have been like her. But he knew that they felt the same about it. They had replaced the bad memories with good, even if the circumstances had not been ideal, even if it could have been more romantic. He had had sex with someone he loved more than anything—someone he would have done anything for—and it did not matter the circumstances.

**A/N:** Well, it took a while, but it's a long, jam-packed chapter, and there's more to come! Hopefully I still have your interest, I know my updates are taking longer to show up. However, I have finished midterms for the semester and should be able to get back to updates in closer succession. Anyway, let me know how you feel about this chapter; I'm admittedly nervous about it, since I added a pretty giant time transition—although I don't regret that and think it's important. But as always, your feedback is most important to me ^_^ Thanks again to all those who have continued to review! I love you guys.


	11. 10 Ashara

**Warning: **Intense, graphic violence.

**10. Ashara **

Bane dozed off at the touch of Ari's fingers at his temples. He relaxed into the small circles she pressed into his flesh through the night, reliving her skin and the glaze of sweat between her collarbones. Her face was nuzzled up against his, the bristles of short, soft hair rubbing against his forehead. The night was perfectly silent. There were no whispered conversations as the prisoners rested on their own, and the whole day seemed without flaw even though he knew differently. He didn't dare consider the dramatics that would rise in the morning, when the first person laid eyes on Hassan's battered and bloody body. When the observation was made—when it became apparent to The Pit that the old caretaker was dead and gone—all hell would break loose. Bane knew this, and yet he could not bring himself to care. He felt no traces of guilt whatsoever over the action, did not feel particularly nervous about the expected repercussions. Killing Ish was one thing (accident or not), but the caretaker was respected and valued. Ish was just a brutal man. It was much, much different.

Still, Bane drifted off to sleep. Ari did not speak to him aside from saying, "You were breathing so loud then. I thought everyone would wake," to which he answered only with a lighthearted scoff. She left it alone and allowed him to wade in the senses she had left hanging in the air around them. It was an environment of vivid scents and specific sounds: heat now had a smell—of damp leaves, perhaps—and catches in Ari's breath as she prepared for a yawn stood out in the black air and there was nothing else but them. As he slept, he dreamed of her repeatedly until his mind ran out of scenarios and concoctions. The dreams were different than they had been; the sex had changed the elusiveness of the visions, and now, instead of taunting moments and frustrating shows, he was laying on top of her, both of them fully unclothed. The rhythm of forward and back, in and out, took place behind deep red cloth, on top of black, velvety, cushioned sheets.

As if they could leave. The cage was as good as it would get, he supposed, but he couldn't bring himself to complain about the setting. It had been good. It would have been dishonest to search for flaws in it. Everything had been perfect in its own way—the proper timing, the intoxicating darkness, the needing to see her but inability to do so. Ari was like a drug. She would not leave his mind.

He awoke to the sound of her easy breathing, realizing in the next moment that she was still asleep. Dawn had broken, however; she was illuminated now, her lips parted in slumber. He took note of a split in her lower lip, the overall redness of her mouth, and wondered if he had done it—if he had been too rough.

The musings ceased immediately when he heard movement very nearby. Bane raised his head somewhat from the cot for the source of the stirring. After adjusting to the dim lighting of dawn, his eyes locked on a figure looming just outside of the cell. It was an older gentleman, his rounded shoulders hunched over the rest of his frail body. Wisps of white hair sprouted from his otherwise bald scalp, and the wrinkles of his skin caught pools of shadows. His eyes were cloudy but they had seen all that needed seeing. Bane recognized him as one of the prisoners who walked free day and night; one of the men who slept in a concentrated location, near to the caretakers, with whom they had close ties.

Bane felt an odd and unidentifiable sensation in his stomach. The old man's brow was furrowed in deep concern and Bane could only imagine the slow, burning shock to the elder's mind as it set in that one of his friends was dead.

And then they locked eyes, and Bane felt small under the fire of an angry man's glare. The man bared his teeth and Bane could have sworn he was shaking before he turned on his heel and stomped away from Hassan's body.

It was a matter of speed, of caution, of thinking quickly and soundly in the face of the impending explosion. Ari stirred as he moved around her, but when she whispered across the cell, "What's wrong?" he simply hushed her and proceeded to the front of the cell. His eyes fell on the gate that had remained unlocked all night, took heavy note of the red staining the stone ground just outside. Red was seeping into Ari's cell just barely, but Bane had to be careful in order to avoid stepping in it. She was still talking behind him, inquiring what was going on in his head, but he didn't want her to say anything, not now.

It was a bad feeling. Whatever it was, was a bad feeling.

Bane clicked the gate shut, locking them inside. "What are you doing?" Ari whispered heatedly. "Go back to your cell, you ought not set yourself up for two crimes." His face heated and wished he could make her understand without having to say it all out loud.

"Being with you," he breathed, masking the frustration and anxiety in his throat, "was not a crime." Voices arose down the hallway, escalating in volume and emotion with each and every word. He did his best to press his nerves away, but this time…if they were all against him, he wasn't sure he could fend them off, no matter how sure of himself he had grown to be.

The voice turned to footsteps. "That's all very well." Ari had walked up behind him, and in his hyper-awareness, she caught him off guard when he felt her breath wash over the back of his neck. "But you have to look out for yourself. You must go back to your cell, now, before they—"

"They have already _seen _me!" he barked, looking over his shoulder at her. He could sense her jumping at the sound of his sharp tone, and he longed to apologize just as much as he feared there were no longer any viable options.

When he had returned his attention to the hallway of approaching prisoners, Ari took a firm hold of his upper arm and snarled, "And what of me? What shall happen to me when it is clear that you have been in here with me? A boy—your _friend_."

Her concerns were solid, and he knew it was far more wounding to her internally than it could have been for him one way or another, but it was too late regardless: the prisoners who had been notified of the dead body in the hallway were upon them. Bane was met with the sound of rattling bars as a man threw his entire body weight into the gate. Bane doubled back, pushing Ari behind him as the man's wide eyes bored into their presence. They were alight with deep hatred. "You kill a man for his keys?" he said, his head tilted to the side. He was older as well, much like the man who had first seen Hassan's body. But this man had dark hair laced with gray, and although his face was plagued with deep wrinkles, they gave him a hardened look rather than the look of an elder.

Ari's fingernails were digging into his back. Bane couldn't help but wonder if he had made a mistake—if he should have listened to her and gotten out of her cell even though the old man had seen him. Now, Ari was stuck with him, stuck with whatever repercussions they wanted to impose upon him. He couldn't bring himself to think about what her own punishment would be. And it was his fault. He had taken the order away from her life, had distorted the security she had had. The caretakers had been the only ones who could access her before, and now it seemed they were both in danger of being stormed in at any moment now.

"Ah…" One of the men produced the keys from Hassan's jacket amidst varying other sounds. Some of the men were mourning audibly over the caretaker's death; others were shouting at Bane ferociously, sticking their arms through the bars up to their shoulders as if to tear his throat out with their knobby hands. Bane senses picked up on things as though they were at some great distance—if only that were the case.

Things were moving too fast. One of the men was fooling with the keys, and others were urging him to open the gate immediately, giving suggestions as to what to do with him. Bane was glad, at least, that they did not seem concerned with Ari's position in the scene for the moment. "They thought you were through with the fighting—the _killing_," said the man who had been leaning on the bars from the start. "You waited years to do it again." Bane could see the negative energy between them, and it increased with every word he spat. "If we had known you would have done it again—known that you would have murdered an innocent man—we would have killed you."

Bane recognized the man now. He had not seen him in some years, but he now knew that it was the man who had beat him years ago as he interrogated Bane regarding Ish's death. It all seemed to far behind him now, and yet the past was being yanked to the present. It was hard to follow the abrupt adjustment due to the shock that had set into Bane's chest. There was no denying their intentions, and they had all the means, and how was he to fight off several men at once, not to mention a man of authority who had already beat him down once before? It was even worse than it had been all those years ago it seemed. Ari was involved and it was clear, he thought, that they wanted to have him dead this time for sure.

The proper key was being shoved into the lock and he was thinking of all the options that he could—where he could run, how he could get Ari away from them and get the keys back out of enemy hands. But there was already one prisoner official against him, and they had easy access to any cell he hid away in. His brain still struggled to comprehend the speedy escalation; he felt he was still in slumber, and hoped there was some chance that he truly was.

"Wait."

A miracle word, it seemed. Perhaps.

The voice belonged to someone in a cell across from Ari's. Bane did not look away from the people swarming, fearing that if he placed too much trust in the intrusive voice behind them, the others would catch him off guard. He strained his ears as the commotion died down. The Pit went silent but for the sound of Ari's nervous breathing.

The man who had spoken stood tall on the other side of the bars. His eyes were dull, yet they held a sliver of excitement. "This is the boy who killed Ish?" he inquired calmly. No one answered. "He was a friend of mine, Ish. A friend of several of us." Bane swallowed a lump in his throat, fearing things were going in a bad direction. "Let us out. We would like to deal with him."

Immediately, Bane was swarmed with fear. Fear that he was afraid to indulge in, afraid to admit. But as he waded in it, he turned his eyes to the man who had asked to kill him, and he recognized him. It was a man he had seen before countless times; he had noticed the man sitting at the fires with others, and he found it safe to say that even when Ish had been alive, he could not recall them interacting. But what else could he have meant by it? There did not seem any other reason to lie about it.

The men in the hallway were clearly considering the request. Bane was not sure which direction he wanted it to go. Either way, things had potential to end very badly, although there was a chance that he could escape… He had to leave it to fate, had to see it pan out in order to allow himself any hope whatsoever.

He harkened back to the previous night, remembered the instinctive desire to hurt the person who would hurt Ari. Amidst the repercussions, he was certain that he would have done it all over again if he had been able to see into the future. And he knew without a doubt that if any of the men who currently waited outside of her cell came to hurt her, he would kill them, too, if he were able. In any way he could manage, however brutal. In fact, the very idea of the brutality had his blood boiling; there was no sufficient punishment for a man who would rape someone weaker than himself.

During his thoughts, the others had evidently come to a decision. Bane watched, frozen and grounded, as the man with the keys nodded and handed them over to the man who had beaten Bane. With a snarl, he muttered to somewhat shocked onlookers, "If you will not be involved, stand aside." Then, he turned back to Ari's cell and hissed with a smile, "You will get what you deserve at last."

Time froze and sped to an enormous speed all at once. Bane could not make himself think clearly except to notice the opening of a gate of someone who must have been an enemy—who wanted to be an enemy. Ari was whispering behind him in a voice that was nearly empty: "They will not hurt you. I won't let them." As if there was a thing either of them could do about it, as if she meant to deny the fate that hung pungently before them.

Was it too much to hope for to live? Suddenly Bane found himself wondering if it mattered at all. He was more concerned with Ari's life and prosperity, and yet neither of them had lived since they were children, free of eternal, unfair imprisonment. And neither of them wanted to even try making the climb anymore. He had long since had the impression that Ari had some unspoken hope that someone would come to collect them one day, apologize for the sheer absurdity of their victimized punishment. Bane couldn't even bring himself to hope for that. He hoped for nothing anymore, except to know that Ari was safe, and that they had each other. So why did it matter whether he lived or died in the end? What difference did it make?

So he accepted it. He basked in Ari's proximity one last time, indulged in final thoughts and memories, and enjoyed the soothing pressure of her fingers trailing nervously over his spine. He shut his eyes while the man was released from his cell when he had seen the look of utter triumph on the enemy's face. Bane drowned his own thoughts away after a minute, and it seemed he had rid himself of Ari's promise that she would not let him die.

"I will unlock the rest." The transference of keys. Another unlocked door.

And then suddenly, there was unexpected commotion. Bane opened his eyes to find physical conflict having erupted in the center with new faces. The prisoners who had just been released were swarmed around the official. More cells were being unlocked than had been requested, and soon enough, the entire hallway was filled with free men who were ganging up on the official. And soon enough, the sounds of heavy kicks and punches could be heard. Bane, unable to fully comprehend what was going on, heeded Ari's words: "They wouldn't kill him, would they? If they did, how could they fault you for Hassan? Do you think…? Why did they request freedom, then?"

The conflict engorged itself, and it seemed that utter chaos had broken out. The other caretakers, awoken by the commotion, had taken to unlocking the cells of their allies, it seemed. The behavior was strange, unusual. Bane supposed it was the result of too much rest over the years; at some point, the restlessness grew within people who all harbored terrible resentment. And that was how it manifested itself: violence, abandonment, and hatred.

Bane was willing to stand aside and let it go on if neither party was going to unlock his cell, which seemed to be the case. It might have been better as it was.

But in the end it was not. In the end, he watched hungry men overthrow anyone who wished to restore order, and in the end, it became clear that Bane was the least of their concerns. They were heading to Melisande's cell.

Ari noticed almost immediately after Bane did. "No!" she shouted, unashamed. She gave Bane, who was still in shock, a rough shove as she hurried to the front of her cell. She shook the bars momentarily, then whipped around and shrieked, "Let us out, Bane!"

Of course he was concerned about Melisande, and Talia for certain. But he could not seem to make his mind catch up when he had thought moments ago that he was going to be dead by now. "How?" he asked her stupidly.

"The same way you opened your own cell last night," she said. "Come on…" Without another word, she made her way back to him and started tugging on the front of his robes. "Don't tell me you dropped it…"

"Oh…" he breathed foggily. "It's…it's here." He produced the knife from within his clothes even as she continued to throw her arms and hands in his way. It was then that things settled into his mind. Then he became terrified for Melisande, and he knew he _would _rather die than know that he could not fulfill the promise to protect her that had driven him for years.

Although his hands were shaking, he was moving at full speed again, including his now racing thoughts. With Ari at his side, he quickly fiddled with the lock, more clumsily than usual, until it sprung open. "They're covering their faces…" Ari pointed out at the sight of several men running past with their scarves drawn around their heads and mouths. "Do the same. We might yet save us all." So they did.

But just as they had merged into the hallway, a horrified scream stopped Bane's heart from beating. In the distance, he saw Melisande's cell open as the prisoners went pouring into her domain. "Oh, God, we have to get her out of there," Ari hollered over the other voices. "Is there a way? There _has to be_."

Bane's attention had transferred the moment he felt all hope was lost. They were much outnumbered, and regardless of what he had trained himself for—he had never expected that Melisande would be under attack by the entire _prison_. He had to be realistic, and Ari certainly wasn't going to be the one to do it. He had to hold her back as she made to attack one of the men passing them. "Give me the knife, Bane!" she yelled. "Let me have it!" But he did not. He turned to her instead and held her still.

"You must listen to me now, all right?" he said hastily. She was wriggling in his grip, shooting him an angry glare as he spoke. "I'm going to get Talia from the cell and you are going to lay low and wait. And when I have collected her, than I will help the two of you to the wall where you will both begin making the climb."

"And the rope?" she said, looking at him as though he had lost his mind. "Who will hold the rope? Assuming you will be a little busy."

More prisoners were pouring from their cells as the keys were passed around. Bane shook his head. "You will go without the rope. I will go back and do my best to save Melisande, and if I can, we will follow after you. But you must realize that we must leave now. You must know that this is our last chance at life, and the two of you are more important than myself. Talia must go. She must."

"And what if we fall?" Ari's eyes were wide, her jaw tightened, but she did not look afraid. "What if we die anyway?"

"The best chance you have. Take it."

His mind returned to the familiar state of autopilot after warning Ari to stay put once more. He had to focus sharply amidst what had amounted to utter disorder. He shoved his way through the people, holding his scarf in place to be sure it didn't slip away. There was no telling when someone would turn to hunt him again and he couldn't take the risk.

Melisande was still screaming and when Bane reached her cell, she had been swallowed in a crowd of men who had pushed her to the ground. It was hard to see her, but he did not want to see her that way. He knew he had to help her—he had promised her, for God's sake—but he set eyes on Talia and the mere idea of her even having the possibility of witnessing an enormous violence against her mother urged him to go after her.

The little girl was trotting, high-strung, around the people, pushing into them and around them. She wore an expression of sheer determination, but it did not entirely mask the disturbance and fear that plagued her. Bane went toward her immediately, hanging his head low and turning away from anyone who might have been calm enough to look in his direction. He kept an eye on Talia with each step, his brow beading with sweat from the stress of it all. At the same time, he did his best to remain conscious of Ari's whereabouts; she had not moved as of yet, but to pace quickly and hold her head in her hands.

Talia had reached down and was back on her feet again. Bane watched as she ran to the men huddled around her mother. She grabbed the back of someone's robe and held onto it with her small fist. Her other arm drew back behind her.

A knife glinted in her hand. A knife that she soon drove straight into the back of the man whose robes she held.

Bane rushed forward, fearing the scenario. He flashed back to his own past, his own vivid experiences with pain and darkness, and he did not want the same for her. He did not want her to grow up in a place that required such physical defense when she was so young and so innocently untouched. Although the men did not seem to notice her in their swarm, Bane did not even want her to see their behavior. She should have been in a different environment, and the best he could do was to give her the only chance she could possibly have.

He put his arms around her and scooped her up and away from the cell she had grown up in. He took her hastily away from the room she had born in, and a room she would never see again. He had to stop and crouch beneath a wall to avoid being trampled by another flooding of prisoners. Talia was shaking in his arms and he could feel her torso moving as she cried. "Mama," she said into his shoulder. He held his hand to the back of her head.

"I am going back for her," he assured her. "But first, you must leave here with Ari."

"I can't," she whined. "I dunno how."

"She will help you." He stood up again and tried his best to conceal her. The moment he caught sight of Ari, he nodded to her when she made eye contact. Her reactions were fast and precise, and soon enough she was hurrying at his side as they ducked through oncoming foot traffic. "When you reach the jump," Bane began advising, "send her first. If you can give her a boost, do it. Can you support her weight?"

"Easily," Ari confirmed, but there was uncertainty in her voice. "Do you think…do you think that I will fall?"

"No," Bane said, but there was no way he could have known. He hoped beyond all hope that the climb would be different for Ari. She had never tried it before; never failed before. And that meant that possibly, she would not let the fear of falling overwhelm her. Yet at the same time, without the rope, the fear would rein her in, perhaps paralyze her. There was the slim chance that perhaps, it would boost her adrenaline so that her legs could make the distance. He did not know. He began to wonder if she could survive the fall from so high.

When they reached the wall, Bane sent Talia up first. She was reluctant to let go of him, traumatized by the thought of her mother out of her sight, but after some convincing, she nodded and embraced them both. "Mama calls you are protector," she said to Bane. "You are going to save us, aren't you?"

The words gave him hope, and he hoisted her onto the first level.

He turned to Ari, who was wringing her hands. After a moment, they stepped towards one another and he held her as tightly as he could manage. "I love you," he told her, surrounding himself with her essence for what might have been the last time. "Be safe." When he let go of her, she was crying, but she quickly wiped away the tears, sniffled, and nodded.

"You be safe," she replied. "Come back for me. Please." Bane nodded and boosted her up after Talia. He watched them stand together for a moment, clutch one another for security that went beyond physical measures. It was hard to watch them. Things had changed too quickly.

And they continued to do so. As he backed away, watching them begin to scale the walls, he heard his name from behind—the first recognition. Then he felt several hands come in contact with him all at once, at which point he turned, his mind too warped with too many things to think straight. He threw six consecutive punches between both hands, and he was thinking about if Ari and Talia had moved at all, and wondering where Melisande's screaming had gone, and who it was that was touching him and finally, when he could see in front of him, he wondered just how many people were going to kill him right then.

When he was being held back by two or three people and could no longer deliver any blows, he maneuvered himself against their force to see Ari and Talia's progress. He had to know that they were continuing, had to know that Ari would not let them give up just because it was now certain that he would not be coming after them anymore.

Last night he had had sex with Ari. Now she was going to watch him die, and maybe, she would die, too, if she didn't make the jump.

Someone's hand clamped down hard over his mouth and yanked his scarf away from his face. He shook away from their touch as immediately as he could and looked back up at the two people on the wall. Ari was standing on the next ledge, turned away from him with her head down and her face in her hands. Talia had just crawled to the same place and was standing as she looked down at him with a great pity and sadness. He treasured her for the emotion. She might have been the last face he saw. He tried to comfort her with his eyes but it was hard. People were still tugging on him, struggling to bring him to the ground, but he couldn't let them just yet.

He gave Talia the tiniest of nods and she tilted her head. "Goodbye," he whispered and he let control him.

It was a simple fistfight for perhaps a minute or so; time was not as it should have been. There were many of them, but they were weaker and slower, and had no tactics. They were easy to ward off alone; it was their numbers that concerned him. As he knocked one of them to the ground, Bane caught a glimpse of the wall again.

He was met with the sight of Ari's weak grasp slipping from the higher ledge. Talia was on the other side, past the greatest hurdle, but Ari had missed it. She began to fall.

Filled with a new energy despite the fighting, Bane burst away from the men savagely and raced to the wall, his heartbeat racing down to his legs. She was screaming and her body was freefalling through damp air and he could not let her die, he had to do his best, he had promised them all…

He reached the bottom and held out his arms. He continued to look behind him to make sure he would not be pulled away from saving her. But they had not reached him before Ari's body crashed into him, sending them both to the ground. The force was incredible, making his legs weak, but he saw that his body had been enough of a cushion to keep her alive. Her face was red and her eyes were closed as though she had expected to die. Her body moved as if in instinct, wrapping her arms around his waist and curling against him for a comfort he was afraid he would not be able to give to her.

He could not bring himself to move her away from him. He knew that it was bad for both of them to stay there, but who was he to rob the last few moments of comfort she might have had. He held her on the ground, calmed her racing heart and rubbing his hands up and down her shaking arms. "You are safe," he lied to her.

Ari looked up at him with tears streaming over her cheeks. Her chin was wrinkled in a frown and her jaw was quivering. He wished he could have seen her look happy again, just once more. "I can't do it," she said.

And it was the last she said before the men reached the both of them again, and she was pulled away. She screamed and fought against them and went on holding her arms out to him, but even though he wrestled to break free, they were apart. They were separated from one another, both of them numb, knowing they were as good as dead. Bane supposed it did not matter, as arms wrapped around him and dragged him back to open space. There was no sense worrying, he told himself. He only wished Ari had made it or at least stayed out of sight. He hated to think that his last memory of her would be pain.

Back in their possession, Bane was forced onto the ground. A man with a wild grin hovered over him. "Old caretaker tried to touch your little boyfriend, is that it?" he spat. Someone punched him in the face, but the man who was addressing him yelled and said, "You hold on!" and returned his attentions to Bane again. "You have created upset for this prison for far too long, my friend. And now we have taken over, and everyone will get their way now. And seven years ago—has it been seven already?—we wanted to see you punished for killing Ish, and now, we'd like to kill you for killing Hassan. Today we will get our way. Smell the morning air. Perhaps you will remember it before you are drowned out by the scent of your blood, brother."

The man smiled broadly and stepped away. In the next moment, someone was swinging a long, metal bar down upon him. Bane took a moment to gasp, and he might have cried out and raised his arms to defend himself, but it was too late for any of that. The bar swung into his face, caught him in the mouth—in his upper front teeth. He felt more than one of them break, felt an enormous agony in the roof of his mouth. Then came the idea of a foreign presence, the idea that perhaps what remained of his front teeth was being knocked further into his mouth.

Blood was already gushing from his face. It was pouring down his throat and he was as shocked as he could manage to be as his raw nerves were exposed and torn away. He knew it would not stop. He could hear horrible laughter over the pounding in his ears, and he knew that it was hardly equal to the suffering that they wanted for him, and he hoped that he would die soon, that the blood loss would be more than they had expected, and that they would be left to beat a lifeless body further into death.

He hoped that neither Ari nor Talia could see. He hoped that Ari did not receive the same treatment.

The bar came down again, hit him square in the nose. The bone moved like putty under the metal and then the entire half of his face was bleeding profusely and he had swallowed a great deal and he started to vomit, having to turn his head to the side to keep from choking on it. His mind was no longer occupied with anything else but the notion that pain such as this even _existed_.

Bane was being yanked back onto his feet, perhaps in mercy, he thought for a split second. It allowed him to hold his face forward to let the blood and vomit clear away momentarily, although it was still running. He noticed that his mouth would not move properly: it would not close at all, and it was as though the hinges of his jaw had gone askew.

And then there was a feeling he had never imagined before. The feeling of something foreign entering his skin at the nape of his neck, and he could feel it inside him. He felt small again, like a weak child in an alleyway—like a girl abused and blamed for her abuse. The blade was cold in his flesh, and although it was short, the feeling was immense in every possible way. It stung as though the wound in progress was on fire and filling with poison. He finally made a sound—a guttural, prehistoric moan—a sound unlike anything he had ever heard.

The knife was being pulled through his skin like he was a rag doll. The man behind him, who was holding his back steady, paused, left the knife in Bane's body, and tore the back away from Bane's robes, as it had been done in the branding years ago. He had barely thought of it until now. Still, it was a chore to think.

Pieces of his teeth were strewn at his feet.

Back to the knife. All the way down, beside his spine, wriggling in his body like a serpent, and he was an open book. He could hear shrill screams in the distance, but Melisande's had been different. He was aware of Ari's pain, and he shuddered to think that they would destroy her the way they were destroying him.

They turned him around, letting the knife tear the skin one last time. Another bar to the face. Then, the knife came to his face. He felt it in his mouth, at his nose, under his chin. His lips were being shredded carefully, and the cartilage of his nose was sliced into. Then it was more barbaric. Then there were fingers clawing at his face. He had his eyes squeezed shut, but they tore open when he felt a significant chunk of his nose be ripped away from his face. His instincts told him to reach up to feel it, but his arms were still being held back.

The rest was a blur. People were tugging at the open wound in his back, pulling it wider with their hungry hands, and he thought he would die soon, any minute now… His legs had long since buckled under his weight; a man was supporting him, holding him upright, but he apparently grew tired of it and allowed Bane to fall face first in a crumpled heap at their feet. Someone kicked him in the side. He could barely feel it anymore.

The world stopped momentarily as a conversation brewed. It caught the attention of most of the people around him, one by one, and he could make out bits and pieces: "That boy… last night… in the cell…" And then the worst bit of it all: "…a woman all along."

And now The Pit knew. Now Ari was lost.

Merriment broke out, as if Ari was some auctioned prize, and there was to be some great pleasure in taking advantage of someone whom they had believed to be a male for years. They delivered a few more attacks on Bane, but he was unresponsive by then—they might have assumed him dead. He was lifted by two men, and he could feel them bobbing up and down as they walked. And then he was out of their hands, hanging in midair, only to find the ground again and hear the sound of a gate closing.

After a moment of sinking into the stone it seemed, Bane was overcome with everything. He was aware of the wetness of his face and the mixture of blood and tears and torn tissue and vomit. He was aware of Ari pleading for help, screaming obscenities and warnings and words of hatred all in vain, aware that he could do nothing for her now, that he had subjected her to it, perhaps.

He reached up when he felt deadened enough. He reached senselessly into his mouth to find an utterly mangled figure, reduced to exposed bone and nerve and things all out of alignment. The touch of his fingers must have been too much—his vision went black and sound faded.

He reawakened to a great heat in his face and the same surrounding noises. His eyes watered with hot, salty tears. They flowed over the caking blood, his broken face still throbbing in agony. He continued to fade in and out of consciousness; he managed to wonder if the other prisoners—his attackers—thought that he was dead. He must have looked it. He knew he had no concept of the damage that had been done, although he had stupidly reached up to feel the mangled mass of flesh and exposed bone. He was aware of the fact that the cartilage of his nose had been torn away. It hardly existed as far as he could tell. The air that he inhaled through his nose caused less pain, if only by a little, but it was far more oxygen than he was used to taking in. That was how he knew that his once straight nose had been reduced to almost nothing. A hole in the middle of his bloody, pulpy face.

He could not feel his legs. He kept trying to make them move, to get them to twitch at the very least, but it was as though they had been torn away from his body. The muscles of his back behaved absently as well. He could just barely detect the sticky, cold sensation on his skin, knowing they had torn it open when he had first felt the knife sink into his flesh. His vision clouded again. The burning became too much, and before he knew it, he had entered the limbo of agony and exhaustion, where the two were one in the same.

His brain recreated images from over the years—all the way back to his childhood, where he could just barely imagine the constantly illuminated surroundings that the upper world always offered. Bane was out of body, watching things from some unknown perspective, wading in yellow light with an empty mind. There was no sense of physicality; he lacked the ability to touch anything or fully make contact with the beings that were present in his absent state. He recreated his mother, tall, wearing blue, smiling softly; bearing striking resemblance to Melisande.

There was no sound in his visions. He saw people's mouths moving, their smiles and laughter, but not a sound was heard. It was an empty world, and he knew for a fact that there was nowhere he wanted to be. It would have been better to be dead, he knew. He couldn't help but hope that there was still a chance.

He saw his childhood self again in the light, running through the hallways of his family's home. But when the little boy turned, it was Talia after all, joyous and free. For a fleeting moment, he felt triumphant, thinking that maybe enduring endless pain was worth it to know that an innocent life had been set free.

But he could hear shrill, violent screaming filling The Pit. Screams filled with terror, fear, and pain. He lost consciousness entirely to the sound of Ari's blood-curdling cries.

**A/N: **I am so sorry for how long this took to put up : ( It was college's fault again. I also feel bad because this could have been longer and more coherent, but I just had to finish it in order to stop feeling guilty. I hope it's not a huge let down, and this is not the last chapter of Part I, either. There will be at least two more, probably more than that before I move on to Part II (which will fall into my winter break, woo!). Thanks for your feedback as always, and, considering we have a huge turning point, I'd love to hear from you guys! I'm interested to know where you guys think things will go from here. Your reviews are so encouraging and helpful; I love you all!


End file.
